


Shut Up and Dance

by LadySalamander



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 20/21, Dancing, Drag, Gladio is OBLIVIOUS AS HELL, M/M, brotherhood era, but no physical violence, content warning, drag queen Ignis, fluffy bits and sexy bits and boys being dumbasses, homophbia and transphobia, rated for later smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySalamander/pseuds/LadySalamander
Summary: Gladiolus and Ignis were, for lack of a better term, friends. They had known each other for, well, time, but there was still so much Gladio didn'tknow. And astrals help him, he wanted to find out.Ignis dances to help him learn to love himself; Gladio dances because he gets to hold Ignis's hand. And maybe Gladio has a thing for Ignis' stage persona, he just doesn't know it.





	1. Victims of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> *slides into fandom two years late with a timmies take ten*  
> Hey I brought coffee.  
> I'm a better writer than summarizer, I promise.

Gladiolus was bewitched.

The head of a lance flashed through the air. Gold sun glinted on silver polished by the morning mist. A man danced, pushing himself into the air, his feet finding purchase on the wind, daring gravity to defy him.

Gladio had been out for his morning run, enjoying the cool mist before the sun rose too high and burned it all away. Mornings behind the citadel gates were quiet, insulated from the bustle of the city. Across the grounds the crownsguard would muster, the household staff would fire up the kitchens for breakfast, but the gardens would always remain still, the quiet broken only by the far off sounds of traffic and the crunch of Gladio’s runners on the gravel paths. It left him with just the music in his ears and the burn in his lungs, emptying him out, starting the day feeling focused and new.

He was just hitting that runner's high, humming along when he ran into, or rather, stumbled upon Ignis practicing with his lance. This in itself was rare - whenever Ignis practiced in the gym or sparred with the crownsguard he stuck to his daggers, honing his quick, up close and personal style. Gladio watched Ignis grip the shaft and charge, but instead of the thrust Gladio expected Ignis drove the point into the ground, using his momentum to flip over the butt of the weapon, pirouetting in the air and landing heavily, weapon at the ready. Gladio watched as Ignis practiced, using the spear to push himself into the air, twirling forward, backwards, dancing with the spear in long, graceful arcs. The grass was already furrowed and gouged where Ignis had dug the point into the ground. It was a wonderful style, Gladio realized, but one that would wreak absolute havoc on the floor of the gymnasium. Ignis finished his routine by planting the lance into the ground and hopping up on the ornate crossguard, riding it as it tilted and freed itself from the ground. He landed lightly and swung the weapon up and around, finishing in the ready stance Gladio had taught him.

Gladio popped his headphones from his ears and applauded heartily. Ignis started, caught off guard by the presence of an audience and visibly embarrassed. He closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, then opened them and smiled beatifically, cheeks flushed and forehead glistening with perspiration. It was a good look on him.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked. 

“Hell yeah!” Gladio replied. “Where’d you pick that up anyway?”

Ignis pushed his glasses back up his sweaty nose. “Hm, here and there. You and the Marshal often talk of the importance of improvising, I thought I would give it a go.”

“You looked like you were dancing,” said Gladio, stepping onto the grass and repeating a few of the steps Ignis had been demonstrating, spinning on an imaginary polearm. “Hey, Ignis. You’ve been holding out on us, haven’t you!” Gladio planted his hands on his hips and gave Ignis an exaggerated leer. Ignis scoffed, but his smile didn’t drop.

“Don’t be silly. I’m just making sure I don’t get in the way with my flailing.”

“Naah,” said Gladio. “You won’t be gettin’ in anyone’s way but you won’t be gettin’ any better if you stick it out here alone all day without anyone to practice with.” He snapped his fingers, struck with an idea. “Hey, I got it! Why don’t I be your dance partner?”

Ignis leaned on his lance, holding it close to his body, unsure. “You … honestly believe it’s worth pursuing?”

“Hell yeah,” said Gladio, rocking back on the heels of his sneakers. When his feet came down he summoned his greatsword to hand. Ignis’ eyes widened.

"Now?"

“Why not? We were both up for a morning workout anyway.” He took a few paces back, hefting the sword to his shoulder. “Whaddya say? Come at me.”

Ignis leaned on his lance a little longer, but then he seemed to find his resolve, plucking it from the ground and taking a few steps back of his own. 

"Well, I hadn't planned on sharing my morning with anyone, but I suppose for you I can make an exception."

Gladio grinned and dropped into a ready stance. Ignis charged. So did Gladio. Gladio swung, and Ignis deflected. Looking back, Gladio would say it was as if Ignis had been freed, unconcerned by the confines of the gymnasium and bolstered by Gladio’s enthusiasm. It wasn’t the first time they had sparred, but it was the first time Gladio realized Ignis had been holding back. Gladio and Ignis danced, not for the sake of scoring a hit but for the sake of dancing, for the sake of grace, to take joy in the movement.

Gladio came around, ready for the counter, but instead of coming at him the point of Ignis’ lance instead dug itself into the ground. 

Ignis soared.  


* * *

They both collapsed when they were done, Gladio flopping to his back on the grass, Ignis sitting and leaning on his lance. The two of them were breathing heavily, exuberant and drenched in sweat.

“I didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” said Ignis, panting.

“Ha ha!” Gladio crowed. “And I didn’t think you were such a gymnast!” He pulled himself into a sitting position without using his hands just to show off. “We should train out here more often.”

Ignis’ smile was wide and genuine.

“If we have the opportunity, absolutely.”

“Speaking of good times, it’s Libertus’ birthday today and a few of us are heading out for drinks after work if you want to join.”

They always invited Ignis when they went for drinks, birthday or not, even though Ignis never came. Today it seemed was no different. Ignis shook his head, although he was smiling apologetically and replied,

“I can’t, sorry. I have a prior engagement tonight.”

Instead of waving Gladio off with cool indifference and saying something about having work that needed done. Gladio pressed a bit.

“Oh ho, does this perhaps have anything to do with Ren Silas asking you out?” Ignis blushed.

“I wasn’t aware that was common knowledge. He’s sweet, but otherwise …” Ignis shrugged. Gladio lifted his eyebrows in surprise. Ren was, yeah, a decent guy, and clever, but there wasn’t a lot to him. Gladio figured he was someone Ignis would like. Something simple that wouldn’t distract from his work. “Actually,“ Ignis continued, a fond smile on his face. “I’m visiting my aunt tonight.”

“Just good old family dinner, eh?” Gladio asked, trying to hide his disappointment. He wanted Ignis to come. He wanted to give him a chance to loosen up a bit. Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis Scientia had known each other for, well, time, since they were both brats getting under the feet of the citadel staff. They knew each other’s history, they got along together and worked well together. They had a repertoire. They were, for lack of a better term, friends, though not close friends. Ignis was usually a keep to himself kinda guy, who could was always present in the moment but hardly ever talked about his past or the future. Gladio had known him for a long time, but there was still so much he didn’t _know_. And astrals help him, Gladio wanted to find out.

“Oh, it’s not all that bad,” Ignis assured him. “You know its not my scene, anyway.”

Gladio acquiesced for the time being. He left Ignis, beaded with sweat and smiling confidently, with a promise to spar again soon. But Ignis stuck with him, in his mind. The plethora of mysteries, the known unknowns that were Ignis Scientia, were beginning to open up to him. There was something in the way he trained,a joie de vivre that told Gladio that not only could Ignis let loose, he wanted to. He would just have to figure out how. For now, he had an evening of good company and good drink to look forward to.

* * *

Gladio’s evening did not go how he had expected his evening to go.

“That looks so dumb it might be fun,” Nyx said, clapping a hand on Gladio’s shoulder as he stumbled to keep himself upright. He’d had too much to drink. Gladio and Libertus were notably more sober, though not sober enough that they were going to quit the night now and take Nyx home. 

“I’ve … heard of these,” Libertus offered, swaying slightly on the dark Insomnian street. 

Insomnia Burlesque! The flyer advertised. Third saturday of every month here at The Mercury! None of them had ever been to The Mercury before, though they all knew its reputation as a venue. But when acting as a collective the Glaives tended to avoid concerts in favour of places they could be loud and get drunk without interruption. They were migrating drunkenly from one such of these places to another after stopping for a bite to eat. Libertus still had half a foil wrapped shawarma wrap, which he raised to his mouth for a hearty bite, garlic sauce erupting and dribbling down the foil onto his hand.

“Do they serve drinks?” asked Nyx.

“Why wouldn’t they?” said Gladiolus.

“Fuck it then,” Nyx suggested. “How bad could it be?”

Not bad at all was the answer. Eye catching. Entertaining. And, well. Gladio thought back to that morning.

Bewitching.

“Ladies and gentlethem,” said the announcer. “Some of you know her already, some of you lucky few are here to witness the spectacle for the very first time!” A spotlight lit up the stage on cue, an ice white beam like a column of divine light drawing their eyes to center stage. “The mistress of the stage, our lady of mystery,” blue lights came up on the backdrop, painting the stage with a cool, wintry light. “Shiva!” called the announcer, “the Ice Queen!”

A woman appeared onstage as if by magic in a flowing white dress, scarf, and a long, ash blonde wig.

“What’s this?” Gladio asked, leaning heavily on the bar. Nyx snorted.

“What, you never seen a drag act before?”

No, Gladio hadn’t. For a moment he just assumed Shiva was going to sing. Her head was bowed low, swaying in time to the slow intro of the music. 

_Tonight I’m gonna have myself a real good time,  
I feel alive and the world I’m gonna turn it inside out, yeah_

A ballad maybe, or a fairy tale. The song was vaguely familiar. 

Then the beat kicked in, the lights brightened, and Shiva’s head shot up, her piercing gaze meeting the captured eyes of the small crowd of the Mercury. Her makeup like her dress was icy and pale, all except her lips which shimmered an enticing ruby red. Gladio felt pinned as the music picked up and Shiva began to dance, syncing her lips to the music.

_I’m a shooting star leaping through the sky_  
_Like a tige_ r  
_Defying the laws of gravity_

She kicked out a leg, heel clapping on the stage, snapped her hips and her skirt blossomed, revealing a long slit from ankle to waist, which in turn revealed a long, toned leg in sheer white stockings.

_I’m gonna go go go  
There’s no stopping me_

At the end of the first verse she started to strip - first the scarf, then her flowing top, leaving her in a tight corset and her long skirt, which whipped and flew every time she snapped her legs or her hips. Every movement was meticulously choreographed and executed so that skirt and hair whipped and rippled, sequins catching the light and flashing as she moved to the beat of the song.

_I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah_  
_Two hundred degrees_  
_That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit_

She got down off the stage, picking up her scarf and wrapping it around a young man near the front of the crowd, while his partner looked on in scandalized delight.

“Uh oh, Maybe it’s a good thing our Ice Queen didn’t come with us for once,” Nyx laughed, referring to Ignis.

“Improprietous,” Libertus agreed, putting on Ignis’ accent.

“Waste of time,” Nyx sniffed.

_I'm traveling at the speed of light  
I wanna make a supersonic man out of you_

She hopped nimbly back on stage, first perching on the edge and then wrapping her legs up, flashing the stockings to the audience once more.

_Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time  
I'm having a ball_

She finally dispensed with the skirt, letting it flutter ff with a flourish, strutting across the stage in her corset top and lingerie, sheer white stockings and garter highlighting the nicest pair of thighs Gladio had ever seen in his life. He was well aware what a pair of heels could do, and for Shiva they turned her slim, muscular legs into a gift from the Six. Gladio reckoned he could die a happy man between those thighs. The crowd erupted into cheers, including a whoop from the Glaives.

“Why does she go by Shiva, that woman is on fire!” Gladio crowed.

“Dude,” Nyx cackled, “you realize that’s a man, right?”

“Like he gives a fuck,” said Libertus, laughing along. “Gladio you are officially a kinky bastard.”

“Lib’s right; I don’t care,” Gladio replied. He turned to the bartender. “Introduce us,” he demanded. The bartender just laughed.

“I can tell you right now she’ll tell you she’s flattered but still say no.”

“Dammit,” muttered Gladio, half in jest, half in genuine disappointment that his friends didn’t quite read, howling at the hilarity of the flat rejection.

“Even if you weren’t two sheets to the wind,” said the bartender, “She would still say no. Shiva doesn’t always perform because she can’t get much time away from work. Nobody knows what she does and I don’t think she wants us to know. Everyone here only knows her as Shiva, and I’m pretty sure she wants to keep it that way.” The bartender passed another pint into Libertus’ waiting hands. “You want my advice just enjoy the show.” Gladio looked to the stage were Shiva smiled hugely and shone under the spotlight. “She’ll be back next month, or the month after. And hey, looks like you will be too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you somehow haven't heard[ "Don't Stop Me Now"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgzGwKwLmgM) by Queen.


	2. That Chemical, Physical Kryptonite

Gladio woke the next morning earlier and feeling much better than he should have considering the extent of their birthday revelries the night before. Libertus wasn’t usually a huge drinker, but Nyx apparently had a point to prove. Gladio for his part had barely been able to get Shiva’s performance out of his mind. The raw power of her movement, her openness and lack of fear, the confidence to draw all the lights in the room to herself and send them sparkling back out a hundred fold.

And, oh yeah, those thighs.

Gladio hummed to himself as he made his way to the weight room with plans to sweat out the last of his hangover, drink a gallon of water and have a big breakfast before texting Nyx and Libertus just to hear them grumble.

“Don’t stop me now, ‘cause I’m havin’ a good time, havin’ a good time…”

And, oh, speaking of people with fan-fucking-tastic thighs, Ignis was already in the gym, on the thigh press, towel draped around his neck, gym shorts slipped down just far enough that Gladio could watch his muscles flex as he pressed back against the machine. Gladio had never realized, never given thought to Ignis' legs before, but damn, the man had been putting in the work. No wonder he could manage those fancy moves and make it look easy. Ignis, in turn looked to Gladio curiously.

“Mornin’,” said Gladio.

“Good morning,” Ignis replied. “How was Libertus’ party?”

“Eh," said Gladio, blushing. "It devolved into the three of us getting smashed. We ended up at a show, though. It was pretty good.”

“Hence the humming,” Ignis guessed, a small, wry smile on his lips. Anyone else and Gladio probably would have gotten defensive, but since it was Ignis he merely blushed, letting the other man have his laugh.

“I didn’t think Queen was your thing,” Ignis remarked. “But you have to admit, it is catchy.”

“Yeah, I might add it to my running playlist,” Gladio mused, stretching his shoulders. “Speaking of. It’s a nice day,” said Gladio. “Wanna’ take it outside?”

Dammit, why did he have to word it like that?

“Go for a run, I mean. Outside.”

Ignis let the quad press settle with a clang and sighed.

“As much as I would like to, I barely have enough time to squeeze in a workout today before we finalize the details of the diplomatic envoy from Accordo.”

“That sounds boring,” Gladio replied casually, loading weight onto a bar instead and trying to keep his eyes discreetly on Ignis’ thighs. He debated adding an extra ten pounds. Did he want to push it today? He hadn’t exactly warmed up properly. Would Ignis notice?

“That reminds me, however,” Ignis continued, “I overheard the Marshal mention to your father something about you shadowing him and learning the security protocols.”

Gladio grunted, more to acknowledge that he had heard then anything else.

“Also,” said Ignis, “his Majesty is planning a dance in the Accordo tradition to honour our guests.”

“Do Cor and my dad really need me to stand guard for that?”

“That I can’t answer but it did occur to me that neither Noct nor yourself know anything about dances in the Accordo tradition.”

“And you do?”

Ignis raised his eyebrows, imploring Gladiolus. Finally, it clicked.

“Gods, right, you did that ballroom stuff back in high school.” Gladio huffed, settling back on the bench, hand on the bar and shoulders in place. “Still think you should have joined us on the basketball team.”

“You and my uncle,” Ignis sighed. Being bookish as a youngster had given him an excuse for a while, but after Gladio had seen the full extent of Ignis’ athleticism he knew he wasn’t going to let him live it down. “Regardless of how ill spent my youth was, it appears to have finally paid off, but I will admit I am a little rusty.” Ignis finally stood, wiping the seat and dabbing the back of his neck with his towel. Gladio lifted the bar and his tired, post party body immediately regretted the extra weight. “I was hoping to kill two birds with one stone,” said Ignis. “I need a partner to help me refresh my memory, and you need to learn. You’re free on weekdays until Noct gets out of school - what do you say?” His lips turned up. “You’ve already proven to be quite a good dancer, after all.”

Gladio nearly dropped the bar, letting it clang heavily into the holder. How did Ignis do that? How did he make it sound so fucking casual? Come and let me put my arms around your waist, just the two of us alone while we move together and, oh yeah, its for a _royal function_. But his libido screamed _yes_ as his heart screamed _yes,_ and Ignis was watching him, waiting for an answer. What, did he really think Gladio was going to say no?

“Sure,” he replied.

“Grand,” said Ignis. “I’m usually in conference until after lunch. That should give us a couple hours before I have to pick Noctis up from school.” He stretched, extending one long arm toward the ceiling. Gladio eyed the patch of skin where his shirt rode up. “See you then.”

* * *

Gladio caught up with Ignis a couple days later, at the same place in the gardens they’d sparred earlier that week. Ignis sat on the stone bench, watching videos of Accordo ballroom dances on his phone. Gladio had no idea what he was supposed to wear for this kind of thing so he worse what he always did, which was a lot less formal than Ignis’ button down and slacks but he was relieved to see it was nothing special. Gladio cleared his throat to announce his arrival.

“Hey!” He called, excited and a little nervous.

Ignis looked up and smiled. “Hello yourself. Have everything you need?”

“Uh, I need things?”

“Not particularly.” Ignis glanced around the garden. The spot where he trained wasn’t completely secluded, but it was sheltered by a broad leafed tree and surrounded by chest high bushes just starting to bloom in the warm, springtime air. At this time of day there wouldn’t be many people around, maybe the gardeners or a guard on patrol.

“I don’t think we’re gonna bother anyone,” said Gladiolus. Hopefully, he thought, no one’s going to be bothering us. 

“No, you’re right,” Ignis sighed. He set the music on his phone and hit pause. “Alright, Gladio. Do you remember when you first started training me, you taught me some drills?”

Gladio nodded.

“Do you remember what you told me?”

Did he? Probably the same thing his dad told him.

“The point isn’t to know the sequence, it’s t help your body commit the moves to memory so you can so them without thinking.” He paused. “Are you gonna make me do drills?” All of a sudden this seemed a lot less fun then he was hoping. Ignis gave him a wry smile.

“Not unless you are truly terrible. But the idea is the same. There are a few set dances that you should memorize, and you can help me develop some “drills” for Noctis. Hopefully by the time the delegation arrives, he won’t even realized he’s learned something.”

“Right on,” Gladiolus chuckled. “So…?”

“I’ll lead you through some of the basics. To begin,” he composed himself and held out a hand to Gladio. Gladio accepted gently, almost with shyness, unsure of what to expect but pleased to learn it involved their hands cupped together, his hand on Ignis’ shoulder and Iggy’s hand on his waist. What he didn’t expect was the _realness_ , the solidity of it all; the weight of Ignis’ hand in his own, the subtle softness of his button-down. It grounded him even as his heart leaped and pounded. 

“I dunno how cut out I am for this,” he joked, trying to hide his excitement.

“Nonsense,” said Ignis. “You don’t stand there and wait to be attacked, do you? You wouldn’t be half as good a fighter if your footwork were that poor.” Gladio had to admit he was right, even if it really did sound like he was going to be taught footwork drills like a kid again. It was different, though, then pattering back and forth across the old wood floor of his family’s basement in sweaty bare feet. Less urgency to it. All he had to do was follow Ignis’ lead, let the music set the rhythm and the pace. 1,2,3 … 1,2,3 … left, and then back, and that was it.

“You’re doing very good,” Ignis complemented.

“Thanks,” said Gladio, looking at his feet. “Noct is gonna step on his own toes, though. He relies a lot on his magic for movement. Hang on, let me - “ he stole the lead from Ignis, stepping back with the music in a swordsman’s quarter turn, then out again as if to parry.

“Interesting,” Ignis remarked. 

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll put a ban on the magic for a bit and get him to focus on the footwork. He’s not gonna get better on magic alone, anyway.”

“Not a bad idea,” Ignis mused. “What about yourself? Would you like to try picking up the pace?”

Gladio grinned. Why not? Sounded like fun. Sounded like a challenge right up his alley.

“Ignis,” said a voice from the path. “What are you doing?”

They looked up to see Ignis’ uncle watching them with a frown, some sort of thick dossier cutched in his arms. He’d probably just stumbled across them cutting through the gardens from one building to the next. It occured to Gladio all of a sudden that he and Ignis were still holding onto one another, even though he had been doing so without question for the past hour.

“Hey, Minister Scientia,” said Gladio, letting go so he could wave.

“Mister Amicitia,” he replied curtly. “I hope Ignis isn’t getting in the way of your duties.”

“Nah,” Gladio replied, flashing the minister his most winning smile. The minister was severely unaffected by his charm. “Iggy and I were just talking about the Prince, actually.”

“Gladiolus is helping me refresh my memory and formulate a curriculum so that his highness is prepared for the dance when the delegation from Accordo makes their visit.”

“And he’s teaching me!” Gladio added. The prince’s shield had to be prepared too, that was obvious, right? The minister’s frown deepened.

“The delegation won’t be here for another month. And I’m sure your family can afford the best dance instructors, Mister Amicitia.”

Afford? Yes. Best? Not really. Ignis was probably the only one who could make dance lessons interesting. 

“Yess, well,” said Ignis, stepping away from Gladio, much to Gladio’s disappointment. “The prince is still a young man, and you know how they can be. Consummate last minute studiers. It _is_ my job to see that he is adequately prepared.” He glowered at his uncle. “Speaking of the prince,” he continued, stooping to gather his things, “I really should get ready to pick him up from school.”

School didn’t let out for another couple of hours, but okay.

“Will you be coming to Crassus’ for dinner with me tonight?” asked Ignis’ uncle.

“That depends entirely on his highness, said Ignis, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “If he hasn’t done his homework, then most likely not.” Knowing Noctis the way Ignis and Gladio did, that was a hard no. Ignis set off down the garden path in the opposite direction of his uncle, signalling the end of the conversation. Gladio waved to the minister and jogged to catch up, wondering what the hell he had just witnessed. 

“Hey,” he said, once they were out of earshot. “What’s up with your uncle?” Ignis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, not looking back. 

“He’s worried I’ll get distracted. Too focused on having the ear of the king when the time comes.”

“Tch, what a bore,” said Gladio. Ignis scoffed. “What are you laughing about?” Gladio asked.

“I used a few choice words to describe my dear uncle over the years, but I never thought of him as something so straightforward as a bore. Its -” he paused, thoughtfully. “It’s actually rather refreshing.”

“Glad I could .. be of help?” replied Gladio He still felt like he was missing something. 

“Very much appreciated.” Ignis smiled and it almost made Gladio forget the minister. “Anyhow, I do have other matters to attend to. Duty calls, etc. Let me know when you’re available, and we can continue your lessons, or spar again.” He waved, setting off at a half jog.

“Yeah,” said Gladio, waving back. “Will do.”

And they did. Even if it weren’t job related, Gladio knew he would keep finding excuses to spend time with Ignis, spend time alone, without Noct, or his dad, or any other of the crownsguard or government staff. Gladio tried to get Ignis to repeat some of the moves he practiced out in the garden in the training hall, but he was always reluctant and not just for the sake of the flooring. Gladio knew he had a part of Ignis that, for the time being, no one else was allowed to see. And that was okay, thought Gladio. The thought of helping Ignis become more confident in his martial arts lit a little flame of warmth in Gladio’s chest. He wanted to kindle it, hug himself close to it, which altogether was a weird sort of sentimental feeling that ground against the structure of Gladio’s routine. It distracted him when he tried to read, crept into his thoughts in the dark of night when he tried to sleep. More than once he picked up his phone to text Ignis, only to realize the late hour and turn it off, feeling silly.

And all the while they danced, sword against lance, and hand in hand.

A couple of weeks after Ignis’ uncle ran across them in the garden, Gladiolus arrived early to the training hall to find Ignis’ there sparring with the marshal. Gladio watched them for a bit, wincing inwardly. Ignis was good but Cor was, well, Cor. He wasn’t holding back and Ignis was flailing, sweating profusely and skidding when he dodged, almost slipping on the mats. But he hadn’t totally lost his composure, not yet. Ignis’ eyes were still focused, cold, calculating ice. Watching. Learning. Cor swung and Ignis skidded backwards once, twice. No good. He needed to be in Cor’s guard to use his daggers, and and Cor wasn’t letting him get close. He couldn’t keep retreating like that either, or he would fall and Cor would pounce. Gladio bit his lip. _Should he?_ He wondered. Worsts case Ignis would get pissed at him. He was probably going to lose anyway, but there were things that Ignis cared a lot more about than losing in a practice match to Cor the Fucking Immortal.

Gladio cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Do the thing!” he called. “Do the flip thing! It’s just Cor!”

At first Gladio thought Ignis might be ignoring him and revving up to get mad at him about it later, but on Cor’s next lung he backflipped, summoning his lance and pushing himself into the air. From his new vantage he launched a dagger at Cor, hoping to catch him off guard. Cor didn’t miss a fucking beat, batting the dagger aside and catching Ignis when he went to stick the landing. Gladio winced.

“Clever,” said Cor, “but showy. Could work, but you should try and telegraph less. We need you to fight like a crownsguard, not a hunter.” Ignis nodded, still catching his breath. “Probably works better against him than me.” Cor nodded toward Gladio, who tried to look apologetic. Ignis chuckled a little.

“Should I be worried about my tutelage?”

“Nah,” said Cor, reaching to help Ignis up. “It was unexpected, which is good. Great, actually. I just happen to make a point of knowing exactly what everyone in the crownsguard is capable of.” Ignis blushed, but he didn’t appear distressed, not like he was when Minister Scientia confronted him. And hey, he’d basically gotten a compliment on his style from Cor the Immortal.

“Right,” said Ignis. “Now, where did that dagger end up?”

“Uh,” said Gladio, pointing. When Cor had defected the dagger he sent it spinning, and it had ended up lodging itself high up one of the hall’s thick pillars. Ignis stood under it, staring.

“You can’t recall it?” asked Gladio.

“It’s a training dagger,” said Ignis. “I don’t have it attuned.” Gladio crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on his bicep. Cor shrugged.

“It happens. Get Noctis to grab it when you have him in here later.”

“I got an idea,” said Gladio instead. Both Ignis and cor regarded him, eyebrows arched. 

“Iggy,” he said, “How high do you think you could get if I gave you a boost?”

Ignis thought about it. They were both pretty tall. “Perhaps thirteen, fourteen feet? Not that height.”

“No I mean like - “ Gladio manifested his shield, “- if I gave you a _boost_. Like you usually do for yourself.” Ignis looked at the shield, then at the dagger some twenty feet up. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now,” said Gladio. “Wanna give it a shot?”

It worked out like this; Ignis would give himself a good running start while Gladio crouched low, ready to put his whole weight behind his shield. The moment Ignis’ feet alighted on the metal Gladio would uncoil like a spring, hauling Ignis who would in turn add to the momentum by propelling himself ogg the shield.

Cor would watch.

“Ready?” said Gladio.

“Ready,” Ignis replied and he was off, sprinting the dozen meters or so between himself and Gladiolus. Tap tap tap tap ting! Gladiolus grunted with the effort of bearing Ignis’ weight on his left arm, but his legs were doing most of the heavy lifting anyway and before they knew it Ignis was in the air, and holy shit it worked, they’d really gotten some height off that stunt and Ignis was grasping the dagger, pulling it free, and then all of a sudden reality took back over, gravity grasping at Ignis’ heels and there was nowhere for him to go but _down_.

“Shit,” said Ignis. And,

“Shit!” said Gladio. Thinking fast all he could do was toss the shield aside to hold out his arms. And he caught him! He caught Ignis! But he also caught his downward acceleration and they _both_ hit the mats in a single dazed tangle.

“By the six,” groaned Ignis. It took Gladio a few seconds to realize Ignis had ended up on top of him, chest to chest, one thigh over his hip and long legs tangled in his own. This was closer than they got while dancing. He could feel the long, sinewy lines of Ignis’ body against his own. He could feel the rise of his chest when he breathed. And if he turned his head - yup, Ignis was right there. He blinked dazedly, then seem to realize just how closely he was pressed to Gladio and his cheeks blossomed pink. But he didn’t look away. In fact, he seemed to be looking at Gladio’s lips…

Soft footfalls and a heavy cough announced the return of Cor, who stood above them, potion in hand. Ignis retreated so fast there was no way it _wasn’t_ conspicuous. 

“Thought you might need this,” said Cor, wiggling the potion vial, “but you seem to have fared better than I expected.”

“Indeed,” said Ignis, standing and straightening his t-shirt. “Perhaps we should abstain from that particular maneuver.” He cleared his throat for no particular reason. “Ahem. I should be going. Marshal, Gladiolus. I’ll be seeing you soon, I’m sure.”

Gladiolus watched him leave from his spot on the ground, craning his neck back so his eyes could follow Ignis as long as possible. He’d try that maneuver a million times if it meant Ignis on top of him again.

“I should go too,” he mused.

“Nice try lover boy,” said Cor, tapping Gladio’s foot with his own in an indication that he should get the hell off the floor.

“Whaaat,” Gladio complained.

“You have a lesson and you’re not getting out of it. Get up and warm up while I put this potion away. You can jerk off later. For now you can put that energy to use.”

Gladio did jack off later, or at least he tried. It started off great, but partway through he felt like a dirty fool. This was Ignis; Ignis was his friend, someone he respected and he liked being his friend, he liked their secret sparring and the dancing lessons and the occasional tupperware of some delicious new concoction. Yeah he was attracted to him, but was he really ready to make that step, to go down that road? There was no way he could look at Ignis the same if he came picturing him with his thighs squeezing Gladio’s thighs, long fingers wrapped around bother their cocks….

Godsdammit. Gods. Dammit.

Ignis, on the other hand, went straight to the showers, put his foot up on the soap dish and fucked his fingers until he saw stars.


	3. Helpless to the Bass and the Fading Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by ThePopsicleEmperor, who is the best friend in the whole wide world.  
> I've never been so nervous about posting a fic in my life.

Gladiolus, thankfully, was feeling a little more clear headed the next day when h e met up with Ignis and Noctis for the prince’s first dancing lesson. Technically he wasn’t really needed but he wanted to watch Noct trip over himself. When he arrived the prince was, as usual, avoiding physical activity by dawdling in the change room. Ignis was lounging against the wall and reading something on his phone and laughing quietly. He smiled as he replied, a smile that made Gladio’s heart flip. It was the kind of smile someone wore when they obviously cared very, very much about the person they were talking to.

“Hey,” said Gladio. Ignis acknowledged him with a wave, still laughing at whatever was on the screen.

“What’re you looking at?” asked Gladio, trying to peek over Ignis’ shoulder. Ignis tried to swat him away, still grinning.

“Nothing. Its private.”

“Whoever private is you seem to be pretty into them.”

“What?” said Ignis, confused for a second before he realized what Gladio was trying to say and devolved into peals of actual laughter.

“It’s my aunt!” he explained.

“I thought your uncle was divorced.”

“Not his ex, gods no,” Ignis laughed. “His sister. My aunt Gina.”

“The one you keep ditching us for?”

“The one and only,” Ignis replied.

“Huh,” said Gladio, leaning on the wall next to Ignis. “I always thought it was an obligation thing. I had no idea you were close.”

Ignis shrugged. “On the outside it’s a bit of an odd friendship, I suppose. She doesn’t share much in common with our cohort here at the citadel.”

“That explains why she didn’t get into the family business.”

“Partly. She’s a scientist. A chemist.”

“A fellow nerd,” Gladio teased, earning him a friendly swat, a light, backhanded tap on the shoulder.

“The ins and outs of politics never really interested her.”

“Lucky,” Gladio commented, and Ignis hummed in agreement.

“Actually, that’s kind of a lie now that I think about it,” he said. “She did once. Do you remember about … ten? Years ago? There was that big uproar about the working conditions at the Exeneris plant? About workers becoming exposed to toxic emissions? A fair number of them were falling ill. She brought it to the attention of the crown and they ended up changing the work safety laws.”

“I remember,” he said, “it was something of a big ol’ to do at the time. But the name doesn’t really ring a bell.”

“Ah, yes, well,” said Ignis, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “She went by Gaius back then.”

That name did ring a bell. Gladio’s eyes widened in realization.

“Oh!” he said. “Oooooh.”

“Don’t worry,” said Ignis. “There’s no reason you would have known. She went undercover as a woman to work at the plant and gather the proper data, and in the process realized a lifelong dream. She never looked back.”

“And she doesn’t mind people knowing?”

“She has two decades of work published under that name.”

“Risky,” said Gladio.

“Mhm.”

“But brave.”

“She’d be pleased to hear that.” Ignis smiled, obviously pleased by Gladio’s reception.

Gladio remembered something else. “Wait,” he said, “I remember something about Exeneris being exposed because a scientist was one of the people who got sick.”

Ignis sighed and nodded. “She still pays for her selflessness.”

“Very brave,” said Gladio.

“Indeed,” Ignis replied, just as Noctis finally emerged from the dressing room in his workout clothes. The richest kid in Lucis in grey sweats with frayed hems and dirty sneakers.

“You’d like her,” said Ignis. Gladio chuckled.

“Maybe you should introduce us?”

Noctis saw Gladio and groaned. “Why are _you_ here?”

Ignis shrugged and pulled himself from the wall. “I’m going for tea at her place on Sunday, I’m sure she’d love to meet you, too. Now Noctis, Gladio is here to help us. Look alive!”

* * *

By noon the next day it was official; Gladiolus was invited to Gina Scientia’s for tea on the weekend. Just the three of them. What was odd was that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around that fact that this was indeed happening on the behest of Ignis of all people. Ignis for whom the longest time Gladio had thought of as someone detached, focused on his duty. 

Ignis about whom he was turning out to be deliciously wrong.

“What are you daydreaming about?” asked Cor, swinging one leg over the bench in the mess hall where Gladio sat with a half eaten plate of rice and garula, staring off into the distance. 

“Ignis,” he replied without thinking. Cor laughed, prompting Gladio’s brain to catch up with his mouth.

“Not in like, that way dammit Cor.” Cor continued to chuckle, shovelling rice into his mouth.

“What are you thinking about then?” Gladio chewed his fork, thinking.

“He’s changed recently.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good! Real good. Like, not so closed off.”

Cor chewed and regarded Gladio as he spoke.

“I think you’ve been privileged to see it more than the rest of us. But no more Ice Queen huh? I think I’d look forward to that.”

“I caught him laughing the other day. At a text his aunt sent him.”

Cor frowned. “The minister’s ex wife is as big a bitch as he is.”

“Not her, his sister the chemist.”

“Mm!” said Cor, snapping his fingers. “Yeah I remember a relative of his came and spoke at the citadel. Got the gift of the gab, that one.”

“They invited me for tea,” said Gladio, fidgeting with his fork.

“You nervous?” asked Cor.

“Yeah,” Gladio replied. “I don’t know why, but yeah.”

“Well,” said Cor, “either it’ll be awkward or it won’t, and a lot of that depends on you.”

“I guess so.”

“Something’s bugging you about it.”

“Well, I mean, Iggy barely has a life outside the citadel, and this seems to be the only thing that makes him,” he gesticulated vaguely, “you know?” Cor rested his chin on the back of his hand, dangling his fork.

“I don’t, Gladio. You’ll have to fill me in.”

“Smile like that,” said Gladio quietly.

“You sure?”

“Y-” Gladio started to reply, but when he thought about it, that was a lie. He smiled when they practiced for the dance and practiced their dance, the high spirited, acrobatic sparring sessions lit Ignis from within.

“Mm, there you go,” said Cor, resuming his lunch. “You wanna see him smile like that more?”

“Yeah,” Gladio said quietly, but with more confidence. Cor smiled. Still chewing his garula and rice.

“You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that every time a character finishes a conversation with "Indeed" I am still, fourteen years on, channeling Stargate SG-1.


	4. We Were Bound

And how did it go?

Ignis’ aunt lived in a brick bungalow near the university with a cramped yard of overflowing flower beds, bright and colourful and badly in need of some weeding. Ignis clutched a tupperware of what appeared to be banana bread, and which Gladio dearly, sincerely hoped was banana bread that had been baked by Ignis himself because it was something Gladio had only had the privilege of tasting a couple of times but which he swore up and down was pure mana from heaven. Ignis lead them to the front door of the bungalow, and nocked.

“Come in!” a woman hollered. “By the six Ignis how many times do I need to tell you you don’t need to knock!”

They let themselves into a warm, sunny home, toeing off their shoes as Gina bustled in from the kitchen to greet them. She definitely was Ignis’ aunt, Gladio could see that, Sane height, same eyes, same long face. She wore her long grey hair in a heavy bun, and a purple shirt with long flowing sleeves that rippled as she reached up to snag Ignis’ face and kiss him on both cheeks Ignis blushed. Gladio grinned like a dope.

“Nephew of mine!” she crowed. “Looking fit and handsome as always. I hope they’re not working you too hard over in that citadel.

“Absolute slave drivers,” Ignis joked.

“And you must be Gladiolus,” she said, turning her attentions to Gladio.

“The one and only,” said Gladiolus, offering Gina a hand, which she shook.

“Good to finally meet you. Ignis talks about you way too often.”

“Likewise,” said Gladio. “It’s good to meet you, uh, Doctor? Scientia.”

Gina threw back her head and laughed.

“Ooh Ignis, I like this one. But please, call me Gina. I hear doctor every day at work. And come inside, the two of you.”

The inside of the bungalow was small and bright. Gina’s taste seemed to lean toward varnished wood and whitewashed walls and lace curtains. The place was also crammed with plants, overflowing their pots and hanging baskets and window boxes. They appeared much better cared for than the ones in the garden, if allowed to grow just as wild. Gladio wondered what she had meant by “this one”. Was this some sort of potential boyfriend litmus test? Did he want it to be? Or was he reading too much into it? Or was he reading too much into it because he wanted to be?

Gina lead them into the kitchen where she had already prepared the tea and left it to steep on the table. Ignis ushered her into a chair, depositing the tupperware while he busied himself getting cups, and plates for what was, yes, banana bread.

“So,” said Gina. “Ignis told me you’re a member of the crownsguard.”

“Yeup.”

“What made you choose that life?”

Gladio shrugged. “Family business.” He paused. “Choice didn’t factor into it much to be honest. But I’m good at it.”

Gina sighed somewhat sadly. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”

“How do you like your tea?” Ignis interrupted, changing the subject.

“Milk and sugar because I don’t drink it black like some crazy people.”

“Coffee tastes better black than tea,” Ignis argued, “I take milk in my tea.”

“I’m surprised you taste it at all,” Gladio teased. “You gulp that stuff like water.” He turned to Gina. “You know I actually caught him drinking Ebony while working out? Like instead of water?”

“I’m not surprised,” Gina replied with a wry smile, lifting her teacup to her lips. “It’s not bad, as vices go. Speaking of, Ignis,” she leaned forward and opened the tupperware, “let us have some of this delicious snack you brought.” They all three reached for a slice. Gladio’s mouth was watering. It had _chocolate chips_ in it.

“Where do you work out anyway?” asked Gina. “With the crownsguard?”

“The citadel actually has two gyms, one open to any of the staff, the other -” Ignis was cut off by an unnecessarily loud moan from Gladio, who had just crammed an entire piece of banana bread into his mouth. He was leveled by identical green, bespectacled stares. Gladio chewed a bit and swallowed.

“What?”

“By all means,” said Ignis. “While I am accused of overindulging, eating banana bread is obviously going out of style.”

“Oh come on,” said Gladio.

“Its not _that_ good.”

“Your cooking is amazing, you know I’d eat pretty much anything you fed me.”

Out of the corner of his eye Gladio caught Gina make a quick movement with her hand, causing Ignis to both blush and frown, but she quit it before Gladio could catch what it was and cackled with laughter at Ignis’ expression.

“Anyway,” said Ignis, spreading some butter on his bread, “I train with the crownsguard and the glaives because I need to work with them to protect his highness, and because of the martial arts lessons I mentioned to you before. Gladio is teaching me, quite a bit actually.”

“I’ve been to the citadel a few times,” said Gina, “and I met a man named Marshal Leonis?”

“I’ve trained with him,” Ignis confirmed.

“Marshal’s actually pretty impressed by him,” Gladio added. “He’d try and make you a glaive if Noct didn’t already have claim to all your time.”

“He was cute,” Gina mused. Ignis hid his reaction in his teacup but Gladio just grinned.

“I can give him your number.”

“Gladio!” Ignis admonished.

“What are you teaching this nephew of mine?” asked Gina.

“Polearms mostly,” Gladio replied. “And he’s doing really well with twin blades.”

“You’re pretty good at anything you put your mind to,” said Gina to Ignis. “I’m surprised you seem to enjoy martial arts so much.”

Gladio didn’t think he enjoyed it either until he caught him out in the garden.

“I… enjoy the activity,” Ignis admitted. “The workout,” he clarified. “I actually find it quite a bit like dancing.”

Gina broke into a huge grin.

“I guess you could say-”

“Please no, Gina,” Ignis begged.

“Gladiolus is teaching you-”

“Auntie of mine…” Ignies begged, copying her in hopeless supplication.

“Pole dancing,” she finished.

Ignis groaned even as Gladio threw back his head and howled with laughter. He liked this woman already. Well, he was predisposed to liking her because she brought such a nice smile to Ignis’ face, but now he liked her even more.

Gladio had a great time that afternoon, the hours slipping by as the three of them chatted, drank tea, and ate the entire loaf of banana bread. Gina broke out a deck of cards and eventually a bottle of bourbon, which Ignis quietly removed after one round. Gladio had expected Doctor Gina Scientia the scholar to be serious and bookish like her nephew, but she was loud, brash, and outgoing. Flamboyant where Ignis was reserved, outspoken where he held his tongue. To someone who hadn’t met her she might have sounded like the kind of person whom Ignis disapproved of, but what she also had above all, Gladio realized, was class. Not the stick your nose in the air hoighty-toighty class. Brash, maybe, but not gauche. Loud, maybe, but she thought about the words coming out of her mouth. And not once, ever, was she a woman who lost her composure. Even if she was tearing you apart, she would probably look immaculate as she did so.

And she’d sat Gladio down at her kitchen table and given him tea based on nothing more than the recommendation of her nephew. A pretty glowing recommendation if he did say so himself, but hey. Ignis caught his eye from across the table, and Gladio smiled in return.

“Gladiolus!” said Gina, grabbing the shield’s attention. “I need your opinion on something.” She slapped her cards down on the table, no doubt trying to distract from her less than favourable hand. “I’ll be back in a second.” Gina pushed her chair from the table and departed the room with a flourish.

“She okay?” Gladio asked.

“Her illness does not appear to be bothering her, no.”

“What was it again?”

“Exposure to toxic fumes resulting in a degradation of the bronchioles.” Gladio winced. “She’s alright as long as she avoids rigorous activity, but the effect is … degenerative over time.” Ignis let the kitchen lapse into silence, though it didn’t stay that way for long once Gina returned with a tub of … hair gel. She already had it open and all over her fingers because she needed to be quick before Ignis noticed she was going to stick her fingers in his hair, pushing his bangs up and away from his forehead. Gladio raised his eyebrows as Ignis objected with an indignant squawk, unable to physically protest out of respect for his aunt and a fear of spilling the tea. The effect was perhaps a bit haphazard, but it left Iggy with some classy spikes in his hair rather than the boyish bangs Gladio was used to, and damn, it made him look older in the best possible way.

“I’ve been trying to convince him of how good this looks,” said Gina, placing her hands on Ignis’ shoulders to show off her handiwork. “But I think he needs to hear a second opinion. What do you think, Gladiolus?”

“Handsome,” Gladio breathed, without really thinking. Ignis turned a definitive shade of pink.

“There,” said Gina, screwing the lid back on the hair gel and placing it in front of her nephew. “I’ve said it before; things won’t turn out so bad. I doubt even my brother could be mad about this.

“No,” said Ignis, fingering the tub of gel, “I suppose not.” Gina sighed.

“Now,” she said, much more softly than she had been speaking before. “The sun is setting, and I believe you mentioned you had to pick up our beloved prince by seven?” Ignis looked at the clock and nodded.

“Indeed I did.”

They left the little bungalow bathed in the golden sunset, hearts lighter and smiles on their faces. Gladio stuck his hands in his pockets and relaxed his shoulders. It felt good. Ignis had a bit of a dreamy look on his face, hair still spiked up and around his temples.

“You know what I think,” said Gladio.

“What do you think,” said Ignis.

“If she’s well enough, you should invite her to the ball.”

Ignis chuckled. “She won’t be able to dance!”

“I think she’d like it anyway.”

“Oh, she would.”

“She could show the stuffy bigwigs a thing or two. You have a plus one, and everyone else you know has already been invited.”

“I can’t believe you’re the one suggesting this. You know what a plus one is supposed to be for.”

Gladio shrugged. “Who cares? You know how many of these things I’ve brought Iris to?” Ignis did, in fact, as he had been to most of them himself. “You said it yourself,” said Gladiolus, “she’s a well known scientist. Who could object?” He nudged Ignis a little. “Come on!”

“Alright,” said Ignis, pulling out the car keys. “But I won’t push it. She wants to come or not, that’s her prerogative.”

“Course,” said Gladio, “but you said it yourself, she’d like it.”

Gladio rode with Ignis as he went to pick up Noct from Prompto’s house. Noct sunk deep into the cushions of the car seat, looking tired enough to pass out. Before he drifted, his eyes lingered on his advisor.

“Nice hair,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always welcome feedback on my writing but when it comes to banana bread it's chocolate chips or go home. Enough with this walnut nonsense.


	5. Bound to Get Together

Gladio ended up back to the Mercury. He sort of figured it was inevitable, that his curiosity would eventually get the better of him, and besides, he was getting tired of the wanna be sports bar slash wanna be pub that was their usual watering hole. Nyx was supposed to accompany him after Ignis had to decline because he was, as usual, busy, but he backed out at the last minute, citing unfinished work. Meaning he’d left it to the last minute.

So, Gladio was alone this time. It's not weird, he told himself. It’s a good bar, you had a good time. Still, he held back, sitting at the bar instead of taking a table to himself near the front like he really wanted. The bartender recognized him. Gladio didn’t mind; he was getting used to it. He was a big guy and he stood out, especially now that he was starting to really bulk up instead of being an overly large teenager. Gladio ordered a pint, something to do with himself while he watched the show.

“No friends tonight?” asked the bartender. Gladio shook his head.

“Nah. I don’t think it was really their thing. I have another friend I think would like it, but he’s always busy. I’ll get him to come one day.”

“One day,” agreed the bartender. “I’m glad you came back. I didn’t expect it to be your thing either once you sobered up, but it’s good to be surprised.”

A few weeks ago Gladio would have agreed. _Theatrics_ were the last thing he thought really appealed to him. But maybe he was wrong, he thought, smiling and laughing with the rest of the audience. He liked books, he liked fiction, drama, romance, action. He liked a good laugh. But deep down inside, he knew he was there to see _her_ again.

And Gladio was not disappointed.

Shiva trutted onstage, perching herself on a stool she carried with her and crossing one long leg over the other, showing off her stockings. Someone in the bar wolf whistled, possibly one of the other performers, and the audience laughed. 

“So,” she said to the crowd. Shiva had a Tenebrean accent. “I met a man recently, if you know what I mean.” Shiva winked, the sequins around her eyes glittering and soliciting more cheers from the crowd. Gladio’s eyes ran over the tables and he caught sight of Gina, sitting with some friends her own age, but smiling knowingly in Gladio’s direction. When she caught his eye she raised her glass to him, and Gladiolus did the same. Shiva silenced her audience with a raise of one elegant gloved hand.

“Let me finish,” she said. “He’s a nice guy, really. Sweet. Wants to take me out for coffee. But I also know another fellow, and let me tell you, Mister Nice Guy doesn’t have anything on him. Gentle as a kitty cat he can be, but strong as a bull. Hung like one too.” More catcalls. Shiva smiled. “I’ve known him for a while. Some people think he’s dumb as an ox too, like all that muscle goes to his brain, but I know better. He’s a real white knight, prince charming type. Fights like a demon and dances like an angel. He,” she leaned forward and grinned, “wants to take me out for a proper ride.”

Gladio was so focused on her voice he didn’t even notice the music had started up, a strong, upbeat keyboard melody. Female vocals in harmony, rising as Shiva told her story.

“So I turned down mister nice guy because in the end,” she unfolded herself from the stool, “I’m holding out for a hero.”

_Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?_  
Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?  
Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed?  
Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need. 

_I need a hero._

* * *

“Did you buy my _aunt_ a drink at a _bar_ last night?” Ignis asked him the nest day, without any preamble at all. Gladio had to put his sword down and pull his ear buds free. He’d downloaded Shiva’s music from the night before, because damn was it not some inspirational shit to work out to.

“Say what?” he replied.

“Why are you plying my aunt with alcohol?”

Gladio threw his head back and laughed. “What did she say when you asked her to the dance with the Altissians?”

Ignis pushed his glasses more firmly onto his nose. “She said yes, as you may have guessed. She-” he huffed, “she was actually rather grateful. My uncle never invites her, even though he knows she would enjoy attending.”

“Why?” asked Gladio.

“He - my uncle - he … doesn’t approve,” Ignis answered. Gladio thought about their encounter with the minister in the garden.

“He thinks the balls are frivolous?” he guessed.

“Eh,” said Ignis, making a so-so motion with his hand. “What he doesn’t approve of is _her_.” Gladio didn’t know what the proper response to this was.

“Ah,” he decided on as the appropriate way to vocalize his understanding. “Well, at least she has you, right?”

“And you apparently,” Ignis added. Gladio gave him his biggest, most facetious shit eating grin. “If you don’t mind me prying.” Ignis continued, “what _were_ you doing at the Mercury?”

Gladio let out a long breath between his lips, looking away up at the distant ceiling lights. “Puuuh.” He had nothing to be ashamed about, not really. And it wasn’t as if this were Nyx and Libertus who had figured out where Gladio spent his evening and would tease him mercilessly about it. Gladio shrugged. “I like it, I guess. The citadel can be kinda stuffy at times. People don’t want to admit they're people sometimes, that they have feelings like other people.”

“Feelings you mean like what," Ignis guessed, "desire?”

An odd choice of words, Gladio noted. But Ignis had somehow hit the nail right on the head.

“Yeah,” Gladio replied. “Some people pretend that it shouldn’t matter, that they’re above being human.”

There’s also this woman, he wanted to say. She has the thighs of a goddess and when she dances I’m glued to my seat. Her courage is blinding.

“Does it matter?” asked Ignis. “To you, anyway.” Gladio looked at him and huffed a little laugh, as if the answer were obvious.

“Well, _yeah_.”

_She reminds me of you when you fly._

Ignis was silent for so long Gladio had to finally look away from the ceiling. Ignis was standing, hips cocked. Two fingers resting on his cheek and elbow resting in his other hand, he was regarding Gladio with a thoughtfulness so clearly written on his face Gladio could practically hear the processors whirring in his brain.

“The candor,” Ignis said finally, smiling slightly. “I should have known.”

Gladio leaned forward on his sword, crossing his hands on the pommel and resting his chin on them. “I guess? I just think it’s cool that people want to celebrate being human, and that they put themselves out there for no other reason than they want to.” 

“I agree,” said Ignis. Gladio raised an eyebrow.

“You know, like, a month ago I would have been surprised that you of all people were telling me that.” Ignis raised and eyebrow, still smiling.

“A lot of people still would,” he replied, a teasing edge to his voice. “But I guess you know better now.”

“Are you telling me you’re secretly an artist and you’ve never told us?”

“Well,” said Ignis. “I do dance.” Gladio chuckled at that. “Speaking of,” Ignis continued, “I have to be on my way, but I’ll see you at our lesson. Don’t be late, we hardly have any time left!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit:  
> Oh, yeah, in case you haven't heard ["Holding Our for a Hero"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWcASV2sey0), or you haven't experienced the music video before.


	6. They Took My Arm

The day the delegation from Accordo arrived was long one. It began in a flurry of activity as the palace rose early to finalize the preparation for their arrival, everyone either running about cleaning or setting up the council chambers or doing a security check, finding the prince, letting the press in, keeping his highness away from the press room godsdammit thank you, then the delegation finally arrived, said their to-do’s and all that energy crashed to a halt everywhere that wasn’t the kitchen because there was nothing left to do until the first round of dry trade talks ended at dinner. Noct, to his credit, endured in the council rooms until said time under the promise that he would be excused from partaking in the sauteed green beans if he did so. He didn’t say much, but his presence looked good, and it was a start. Ignis caught Gladio’s eye as the crown and council filed out, following the call of rumbling stomachs. He turned from the prince’s shield to the portrait of Bahamut that hung near the King’s seat and rung his hands as if in pious prayer, mouthing an exaggerated thank you. Gladio snorted.

“Do you think the Draconian can keep him from stepping on the Chancellor’s toes, too?”

“We can only pray,” Ignis replied.

“Well you know what they say,” said Gladio, stretching his arms so his shoulders popped, “the gods help those who help themselves.”

“Meaning what.”

“Meaning you did a good job hammering that dance into his head and I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Oh so it’s _my_ fault if he breaks her foot.”

“Stop stressing, Ignis, please for all our sakes.”

“Good plan,” said Ignis. “They’re serving wine with dinner, right?”

Duty swept them apart until evening faded into dusk, and Gladio didn’t see Ignis again until he caught sight of Gina arriving to the dance. She cut a stunning picture in a long blue dress with ionian sleeves and a sparkling comb in her hair. She greeted both Gladio and Ignis with a kiss on both cheeks. Gladio ushered Ignis off and hung around near Noct while he took his aunt’s arm and introduced her to the crowd. Iris appeared at his elbow, snaking an arm through his.

“Is that Ignis’ _mom_?” she asked in awe. “See, I told you Gladio - if you’re tall I can be tall too, it doesn’t matter if I’m a girl.”

“Keep dreaming squirt. That’s his aunt. Iggy’s mom passed a long time ago. Don’t pester him about it, okay?”

“Oh,” said Iris, in the tone of someone who understood perfectly. Gladio put his hand over hers, chasing away the pain of the past Iris sniffed once, took a deep breath and returned to the present.

“Hey Noctis, will you dance with me?”

“My dad can’t dance with the chancellor so I gotta … do it for him,” Noct replied, voice strained. “Then I will. Or Prompto will.”

“Hey but I’m not the priiince,” said Prompto, winking and nudging his friend. “Every lady here is gonna want to try and get a piece of his highness tonight.” Noct made a sound between a whine and a groan.

“Stick with the chancellor then,” said Gladio. “Be busy entertaining your guest like you should be.”

“Stop sounding like Ignis,” Noct complained.

“You’re only complaining because you know I’m right.”

“Dance with Prompto then,” Iris suggested.

“Chancellor first,” Gladio chided. Ignis, having made his circuit of the room, returned sans aunt to Noctis’ side.

“Don’t forget your diplomatic duties,” Ignis reminded him.

“How could I?” Noct replied, deadpan.

“Go,” Ignis encouraged him. “Make some conversation first.”

“Hey,” said Gladio, grinning as they watched Noctis sidle up beside his father and wait for a break in the conversation, “I got an idea.”

“Gladio I will remind you that these diplomatic relationships are important and that any shenanigans you have in mind should be put on hold for the time being.”

“I was gonna say we should let Gina give him a dance lesson”

Ignis pursed his lips to hide his smile. “Why, Gladio.”

“Because she’ll make him learn fast or trip over his feet. And don’t tell me she wouldn’t love to say she danced with the prince.”

Ignis, failing to maintain his appearance of being collected, rested his elbow in the palm of one hand and his smile in the heel of the other.

“Again, you are perceptive. Damn, I didn’t expect introducing you two would end up spelling trouble.”

“Iggy,” Gladio explained, draping an arm over Ignis’ shoulder and pretending not to be thrilled by Ignis stepping in the tiniest bit closer, “We youngsters have to step up these days and look out for our elders. We need to make sure they live their golden years to the fullest.”

“She’s not that old,” Ignis chided gently.

“You got a better idea?”

“Yes,” said Ignis, pointing at Cor the Immortal, who at present was looking confused after biting into an unidentifiable hors devours. Gladio grinned.

“It’s on. I’ll take Cor, you take Gina.”

“I’ll start after I check up on Noct.”

“Perfect!” Gladio clapped Ignis’ shoulder, then strode off to greet Cor. Ignis slid up smoothly behind Noct, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear as the band struck up.

“What’s the most important thing we learned?”

“Don’t look at your feet and trust your partner.”

Ignis mimicked the clap on the shoulder Gladio had given him.

“That’s my boy.” Noctis cleared his throat.

“Chancellor?” his voice almost cracked. “Would you like to dance?”

Altissia’s chancellor let Noct lead her to the dance floor while Ignis looked on. Iris dragged Prompto out by the wrist, even though he wasn’t really resisting.

“Iggy!” said Gina excitedly appearing at his side and clutching his arm. She didn’t even seem to notice the king sitting nearby. “I haven’t danced in so long, and the first dance is always a slow one. Come on!”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” asked Ignis, concerned. “I’m worried you’re too excited already.”

Gina took a deep breath, composing herself.

“Help me live a little, Iggy. Please?”

* * *

From the sidelines of the buffet table Cor and Gladiolus sampled pastries and watched the crowd.

“Okay,” said Gladio, holding a round, flaky treat with some kind of jam nestled in a small crater on the top. “I’m gonna guess … raspberry.” He took a bite, humming an affirmative and nodding.

“That was an easy one,” Cor argued. He picked up another flaky pastry, a square one.

“Hazelnut or chocolate,” Gladio guessed.

“I’m gonna say chocolate, cause it already has little nut pieces on top.” Cor took a bite. “Yup.” There was a moment of silence while he chewed thoughtfully.”

“Well he ain’t terrible,” Cor remarked, referring to Noctis leading the chancellor a little ahead of the beat. Nearby, Iris and Prompto giggled and twirled in a manner that had nothing to do with the formal dance the music traditionally accompanied. And on the other side, Gina’s flowing dress fluttered perfectly as she followed Ignis’ lead. Gladio was only a little jealous.

“Damn,” said Cor. “I can see where he gets the penchant for fancy footwork. She the aunt you mentioned?” Gladio nodded. He choose another offering from the table, a scone.

“Cheese,” he said. “Gotta be cheese.”

“Apricot,” said Cor. “They had those at the New Year's party. You never told me how it went?” he asked, referring to Gina as Gladio took a bite.

“At Gina’s?,” Gladio replied through a mouthful of pastry. “Oh, fantastic. She’s a riot.” Gladio swallowed as the song finished up and grinned. “She’s single, too.” Cor narrowed his eyes.

“Gladio-”

“Take it easy, okay?” said Gladio, as Gina and Iggy approached them. “Oh, and if you see Iris with alcohol take it away from her.”

“I’m here to protect the king, not babysit your little sister,” Cor replied flatly. From across the room, Clarus by the king’s side caught Cor’s eye. Cor nodded in deference. Clarus pointed at his daugher, made a drinking motion with his hand, then drew it across his throat a couple times. Cor rolled his eyes.

“Ooh, apricot,” said Ignis, eyeing the scone in Gladio’s hand. Gladio held it to him and Ignis accepted the treat, despite missing a large bite.

“Having fun?” asked Gladio. Gina sighed wistfully.

“It’s a bit of a fairy tale, even though it must seem like work to you three."

“Eh, never said this job didn’t come with perks,” said Gladio. “By the way Gina, this is Marshal Cor Leonis. Marshal, Doctor Gina Scientia.”

“A genuine pleasure,” said Gina, extending her hand. Her nail polish matched her dress, though it glittered quite a bit more.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” replied Cor. “Was it you who taught our young strategist how to dance?”

Gina and Ignis exchanged a glance before simultaneously devolving into fits of laughter. Ignis almost choked on his scone.

“You could say that,” said Ignis. Gina wrestled control of herself, taking a deep, steadying breath even though she was still grinning wildly. Cor had obviously hit one some inside joke, some comedic esoteric knowledge known only to Ignis and his aunt.

“In all seriousness,” said gina, “the answer is more or less yes. Do you dance, Marshal?” Cor nodded.

“Yes ma’am, sometimes. My job demands that I keep on my toes”

Ignis’ phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then glanced to Noct who was making help me faces over by the chancellor.

“Duty calls,” he announced. “I shall return.”

“Perks indeed,” Gina sighed.

“I was going to say,” said Cor, “you did a good job teaching him. Ignis can move just as well as any of crownsguard.”

Gina raised a brow. “You have to dance to be in the crownsguard?” 

“It’s not a requirement,” Cor replied with a very, very small smile. “But it helps.”

The next song started up, somewhat more upbeat than the last. Gladio watched as Ignis saved Noct from the gruelling task of politicking by summoning iris for him to dance with.

“Maybe,” Cor was saying, “since Gladio is here to keep and eye on things, you could show me a thing or two?” Damn, Cor had caught on fast and now he was gonna make Gladio pay for it. Gina smile politely. 

“Tragically I’m not as young as I once was. I need a bit of a rest before I can get out there again.”

“Then let's get you some refreshment,” said Cor, holding out his arm. “I’m sure Gladio has a handle on things.”

Gina let herself be led away, Gladio stuffed another raspberry dessert into his mouth and the evening continued on. Iris danced with Noctis, then Noctis with Prompto, and Iris with their father. Gladio remembered when she was young enough to stand on his feet and let herself be swept around the living room. She wore the colours of their house, Gladio noticed, rather than the subdued black of the royalty, along with - and Clarus noticed too - their mother’s old gold earrings. Doubtless something she would have gifted to Iris anyway, but there was something good, heartwarming about seeing them worn rather than locked away and guarded, embracing looking forward to the future.

Gladio paced the room, keeping an eye on the guests, passing notes to the guard. Eventually the sun finally slipped below the horizon and the dancing spilled over into the gardens. Noct was flagging, too bored to listen to politics, too tired to keep dancing. Ignis swung back around and the two of them watched Cor follow Gina across the dance floor, even though he was supposedly in the lead.

For all it’s niceties, though, it was still a stuffy, formal dance. Sedate for the sake of propriety. Paced and prim. Emotions, even good ones, lacquered over like fake nails. Except for Gina, in her dress that never stood still, laughter rolling over the low rumble of polite conversation. Gladio wondered what it would be like to shake things up a bit. He imagined long legs kicking high heels to the heavy beat of the music, the commanding presence, all eyes on me in white sateen and glittering ruby lips. Watch them balk but she doesn’t care, because they’re all rich snobs who don’t know the first thing about how to move to the music. Or perhaps the first thing was all they knew because it was all they needed to, as the first thing was as far as anyone around them cared. He wondered if his sister would want to keep dancing when propriety overcame youth. He thought about Ignis, dancing alone with his lance in the gardens, unsure even about bringing his movement to the already somewhat chaotic practices of the crownsguard, unsure that he may be overstepping his bounds. The diplomats and lords and ladies may have known how to dance, where to put their feet at the right time, but Ignis knew how to _appreciate_ it.

For a pulse pounding moment, Gladio pictured Ignis in white sateen, balanced on the crossguard of his lance.

Then he shook his head. Ignis dancing in the gardens was just Ignis doing what Ignis did best - finding useful connections where at first they might not be obvious, analyzing their benefit, the practicalities of their implementation. That he was sharing with Gladio only showed that he trusted him enough to help build an unfinished idea, trusted him even though it might fail, trusted him enough to want him to help make it better in the future.

Which, coming from Ignis, known to be aloof, was kind of great. Awesome, actually, in a way that made colour rise to Gladio’s cheeks.

“You know,” said Ignis, “you helped me with all those dancing lessons, and you haven’t even had a chance to put them to use.”

“Neither have you,” Gladio pointed out.

“Exactly,” said Ignis. The next song was starting up, a quick, lively intro. “His highness decided to retire early. Prompto and Iris went with him to play video games for a while.” He took Gladio by the hand. “There’s less people in the garden. We should dance.”

Gladio couldn’t help his own grin.

“Absolutely.”

The song wasn’t of the traditional Altissian court music Ignis had taught Gladio and Noct all the steps to, but by now Gladio was used to dancing with Ignis; he knew he could keep pace, he was familiar with the way Ignis liked to improvise. He held Gladio as they danced together, and Gladio felt a sense of elated relief, of finally, _finally_. They didn’t pause between one song and the next, Gladio pulling Ignis closer to himself, better to feel the flex of his body as they moved, and Ignis made no attempt at pulling away, made no hint at being shy. Gladio improvised, picking Ignis up and swinging him around just to see the look on his face wrestle between indignant and delighted. When he feet were back on the ground Ignis spun, pulling Gladio’s hand to his chest so that they were back to front for a few bars, hips daringly close, before dancing away and leaving Gladio’s head spinning. By the end of the second song they were both flushed and a little breathless. _Finally, finally_. No pretense for what they were doing, just enjoying themselves, the moment, each other. Gladio didn’t want it to stop. Neither did Ignis, it seemed, and so they danced until they were breathless and giddy, drunk on their own heartbeats, carried by the intoxicating sensation of another person’s warm weight against your own, the skin of their palm against yours, hot breath mingling with the air they sucked in greedily as they pushed their bodies to the rhythm. As the song reached it’s climax Ignis spun Gladio, unwinding his arm like a spring and then pulling him back again against his chest, both of them laughing and panting in sheer delight as the song came to a close and the crowd applauded the band.

“Phew,” said Ignis, his breath tickling Gladio’s hair as he scuked in deep lungfuls of air. “That was a proper workout, wasn’t it.”

“Yeah,” Gladio chuckled. “I liked it though.”

“Mm, I knew you would.”

Gladio looked down at Ignis.

“Actually you know what?” he said, looking around. “I’m worn. I need a breather. Lets, uh, sit.” He pulled apart, grabbed a couple of glasses of chilled white wine from a nearby tray, and ushed Ignis over to one of the garden’s many stone benches, this one partly concealed by a tight hedge. He shoved one glass into Ignis’ hands, then downed the other in one go.

“Gladio?” asked Ignis, a little concerned but also more than a little bit hopeful. “Gladio,” he asked again, teasing in his voice and a pink blush high on his cheeks, “why ever have you brought me to this secluded corner of the garden, away from the prying eyes of Insomnia’s gentry?” He met Gladio’s gaze, taking a dainty sip of the wine and licking his lips when he was done. Gladio died a little on the inside.

“I, uh," he said as he blushed furiously, "I was kinda hoping I could kiss you? And I didn't think you would want to do that on the dance floor?"

“Hm, not really,” Ignis replied, putting his glass down on the bench so he could wind his arms around Gladio’s neck and pull him closer, even as Gladio reached out to do the same. Their kiss tasted like white wine with an undercurrent of salt, the sweet sweat left on their lips from their time on the dance floor. Ignis was as warm against Gladio’s mouth as he was under the palms of his hands, wet and languid and lingering where Gladio had expected his characteristic deftness. He let his hands drift south to hold onto Ignis’ waist, to really get a good feel of him under his shirt and jacket like he had been aching to every day as they sparred and learned to dance. Ignis licked at his lips, probing questioningly with his tongue, and Gladio et him in, let Ignis slide into his mouth and damn, it was sweet and more than a little filthy. Gladio had to pull away with a reluctant groan, filling his lungs with fresh night air. Ignis pressed their foreheads together, swaying his hips a little to the muffled music.

“Damn, Iggy,” Gladio murmured. “You-”

“Ignis!” barked Minister Scientia. “What in the name of the six are you _doing_?” Gladio felt Ignis’ hands clench. He dropped them from his neck, but remained standing close.

“Uncle,” he replied. Coldly. “My charge has retired for the evening. There’s no need to be alarmed.”

“First you bring -” he hesitated, “the _doctor_ with you, then I find you fooling around with Amicitia’s son-”

“I have a name,” Gladio protested.

“We’ve been over this,” the minister continued. “You can’t get distracted you can’t do anything that might cause a scandal. Ignis-” He was cut short by the arrival of Gina, her dress swirling around her ankles, followed by Cor a short distance behind, watching with the concern of someone who might have to break up a fight.

“Brother!” Gina crowed. “I’ve barely seen you all evening! What’s going on here, you make it sound like this nephew of ours is getting into some trouble.” She crossed her arms and turned to Cor. “Marshal Leonis, I hope Ignis is doing nothing you deem untoward.”

“Nothing at all, ma’am.”

“There you go. You need to stop worrying so much. Let Ignis have his fun.” Gina extended her hand, “Come on, lets old folks grab some coffee and catch up.”

Minister Scientia all but ignored her. “Stay away from him, he said to Gladio, gesticulating with a finger that he all but stuck up Gladio’s nose. “I told him already, you’re a bad influence.” Gladio looked down the minister's arm to meet his eyes, not moving a muscle. They looked like a pair of cats ready to start howling.

From over behind Cor, someone gave a small, polite cough. It was Prompto, carrying a sleeping Iris on his back.

“Maybe we should all call it a night?” he suggested, his voice cracking ever so slightly. Everyone except Gina glared at him. Iris began to slip a little from his back.

“He’s right,” said Gina. She turned to her nephew. “Ignis, will you find me a ride home, please?” Ignis nodded.

“Of course.”

“And Marshal, thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“The pleasure was mine,” Cor replied. He stepped forward and kissed her hand like a high born lady. “I hope Ignis has the sense to invite you to the citadel more often.” Nobody missed the minister’s eyes narrow at the Marshal’s sentiment, including Prompto who wore that shrinking look of someone who has just realized they walked into something with more gravitas than they expected. Gina took her nephew’s arm, leading him as gracefully as possible from the tension. “Minister,” said Cor, “perhaps you should head home as well. You’ll have lots of work to do with the delegation here.” The Marshal’s words were not a suggestion. Gladio, who was getting pretty good at imitating his father, tried his best to make sure the minister could feel his eyes on his back as he left the scene.

“Sorry,” Prompto apologized. “She fell asleep during _King’s Knight_ and I figured it was time to go home.”

“Yeah yeah,” Gladio grumbled. “Don’t feel bad, you’re right.” He took Iris into his arms and carried her to the basement garage. She stirred a little as Gladio buckled her in, waking only briefly before curling back up into a more comfortable position. Gladio settled in the driver’s seat and pulled out his phone, intent on letting his dad know he and Iris were headed home. He found a message waiting for him on the home screen;

_I had a wonderful evening._  
_Sleep tight Gladiolus_  
_xxxx_  
_Ignis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, this one was a bit longer than the others. I also updated the chapter titles finally.


	7. I Don't Know How it Happened

Gladio didn’t get a chance to catch up with Ignis again until after the weekend was up, what with the talks with Accordo and keeping Noct awake during them taking up all of Ignis’ time. Whenever Gladio got a chance he would sneak Ignis a text; _What are you up to? What’s the lunch menu? What are you wearing? Are we dating?_ Most of the time he could watch Ignis reply, sitting across the room with his long legs crossed in front of him. _Making a quiz for Noct. Eggplant parmigiana, I believe. I don’t have time to cook today :( Black shirt, black vest. Stop staring. Do you want to? We should talk about that in person._

Gladiolus stared at the last text, trying to decide whether it was typical Iggy practicality or whether it contained subtext alluring to the fact that Ignis was just after sex or something. He was so engrossed he missed Cor padding up next to him (aided by the plush Citadel carpets) and peeking at the screen over his shoulder.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Astrals!” Gladio cursed, jumping clean out of his skin. “Don’t do that!”

Cor chuckled. “Gotta be on your toes, Gladio.”

“Mind your own business!” Gladio snapped.

“Whatever you say,” said the Marshal, looking away. “But I will remind you, you don’t bring conquests to play cards with your aunt, you bring potential boyfriends.”

Cor was right, as he usually was with these things.

_Yeah, good call,_ Gladio texted back. _After you drop off Noct on Monday?_ Right before or after Noct was deposited at school was their usual gym or sparring time, but it seemed as good a time as any.

_It’s a date :)_ Ignis replied. It was all the reassurance Gladio’s heart needed.

* * *

Ignis however was _late_ , and Gladio couldn’t find him anywhere. Anywhere.

Not Noct’s quarters, not his office, not the library, not the council chambers. The crownsguard he spoke to only reported that he’d been seen with his uncle earlier, which wasn’t unusual, and he wasn’t answering his phone either. Gladio finally returned to the gym, worried and more that a little confused.

“He’s gotta be in the citadel,” he said to his father, pawing through his phone instead of properly spotting his old man. “Noct’s at school. Cor is in the garage…”

Clarus grunted as he hauled the bar off his chest back onto the stand. “He probably just got distracted. Kid’s got a lot on his plate.”

“Yeah but we had, uh, an appointment,” _a date_. “He doesn’t miss that kind of thing.”

Gladio checked his empty inbox one more time before sighing like world weary old man in a way that made Clarus roll his eyes. “I’m gonna go take another look,” Gladio declared. “He probably just had to go clear up some Noct related emergency. You need me to spot you anymore?” His father shook his head.

“I should shower before I catch up with Reg. Besides, I think you’re needed elsewhere.” He nodded to the door, where, speak of the devil, there was Ignis dropping his gym bag against the wall. He knelt to tuck his glasses safely away, and when he straightened he went to push the hair from his eyes, forgetting he had kept it styled back. He carried a storm cloud in his green eyes; when he spoke his voice was sharp as lightning against a grey sky.

“Apologies for my tardiness. I had a meeting with my uncle and lost track of the time.” He stalked over to a chest by the weapons rack that held what was probably the world’s sweatiest, grossest sparring gear and began rifling around.

“Is your uncle saying dumb shit again?” asked Gladio, worried.

“On the contrary, my uncle is a very intelligent man,” Ignis replied. “So much so that it makes him blind to his own ignorance. Now, we haven’t done hand to hand in a while. I think a refresher is best in order, don’t you think?”

Clarus patted his son on the shoulder, something between _Go get ‘em tiger_ and _good luck_. Gladio sighed.

“If I die remind Iris she still can’t have my room.”

“You wish,” replied Clarus, vanishing into the locker room. Ignis tossed a pair of gloves Gladio’s way. He put them and held his fists up, resigned to helping Ingis work out whatever was bothering him, a.k.a. whatever dumb shit his uncle had said. Ignis started out like he always did; quick, measured, precisely varied. But today instead of his usual cold calculating, there was lighting in Ignis’ eyes, real anger. Though in the outside he was performing is usual practiced moves, Gladio could tell he was holding back, tamping down on his blows, bunching his muscles to keep them under control. To keep a hold of that icy edge. Gladio tried to draw him out. He knew is he threw his weight around Ignis would be forced to put his feet into play; he could gode him into that fancy footwork he enjoyed so much. And it worked, it had too, Ignis wouldn’t have been able to keep up otherwise. He took a few careful steps, sliding around Gladio’s attack, but it still fely slow, Ignis biding his time and waiting for an opening rather than making one. He was better than that, Gladio knew it, and he wasn’t going to hand that opening to him.

“Come on,” goaded Gladio, “fight me like you mean it.”

“Don’t be pretentious,” Ignis grunted, shoving Gladio’s arm as he struck and use his own momentum to throw him off guard. It didn’t work in the slightest. Gladio shoved back and finally, finally, Ignis danced out of the way.

“I’m pretentious?” asked Gladio. “Come on. I’ve fought you how many times before? And have I ever asked you to pull your punches?”

Ignis didn’t have a lot of raw weight and power to throw behind a punch, so he made up for it by trying to be the fastest motherfucker in the ring. If they were trading blows for points Gladio had no hope. If they were going for the knockout or for a pin Gladio would have to make it count, or take Ignis to the mats and use his body weight to keep him from squirming out of his grip like an unhappy cat.

“Iggy,” Gladio crooned, “it’s not really practice if you’re not giving it your all.” Gladio was going to pay for this but he figured it would be worth it because once again it worked. Ignis picked up the pace and now instead of playing the parry game he was matching him. Beat for beat, blow for blow, the offensive moved back and forth between them. Gladio was dimly aware of his father leaving, and a pair of glaives coming in to ostensibly use the gym equipment but really just hanging around to watch the show. Sweat beaded Ignis’ brow and dampened his hair, pulling the carefully teased strands out of place. He paid it no mind, lightning sharp eyes focused on Gladio and his next move. It sent a little thrill down Gladio’s spine every time he caught it.

Ignis struck, forcing Gladio to dance out of the way of the blow only to realize it was a feign to catch him off balance and get his feet swept out from underneath him. Ignis revelled in his victory only half a second too long, long enough for Gladio to hook his legs around Ignis’ calf and yank it out from where it had been so helpfully supporting him and preventing him from falling prey to the dangerous clutches of gravity. Now both of them were on their backs, which was not a good position to be in to really start a grapple, so by most logic they should have both gotten back onto their feet, but instead Ignis tackled Gladio and the two of them ended up rolling around on the mats. This of course meant Ignis’ squirming cat routine, which Gladio really wished he wouldn’t do because his body wriggling against Gladio’s like that was sending signals to all the right and wrong places at the same time. Gladio ended up pinning Ignis’ wrists with his hands and his hips with his own, and damn was this not reminiscent of the last time they had ended up on the mats together, of the almost kiss that Cor had interrupted. Was that what Ignis was after? Gladio leaned in a little closer, almost nose to nose. He could once again feel the hot exhalations of Ignis’ breath brush against his lips, could feel the static charge building in the air. Ignis closed the distance, arching sweetly so he could kiss Gladio, pulling on his lower lip with his teeth. Ignis made as if to pull back, act all cool and sexy maybe, but Gladio had been struck by lighting and he wasn’t letting go. Gladio crushed him into the mats, letting Ignis devour him greedily.

Yup, that was exactly what Ignis has wanted. He rocked his hips and Gladio reciprocated, revelling in the sweet friction. Gladio let Ignis’ hands free. _That’s it,_ he thought. _Stop hesitating. Stop thinking about it. Take what you came here for._

“Get a room!” shouted one of the glaives, causing her companion to snicker. Ignis paced a firm hand on Gladio’s sternum, pushing him back far enough to speak.

“It seems we have an audience,” he said, voice sultry eyes crackling with desire. As much as Gladio wanted Ignis, he didn’t particularly want anyone else to watch.

“We also have a locker room.”

“Please,” Ignis breathed. Gladio let him up, helped him stand, and they bolted for the men’s locker room. They were barely out of sight when Ignis grabbed him again, crashing their mouths together, open, hot, licking and begging to meet Gladio’s tongue once more. Gladio let him have it. Everything he asked for Gladio let him have it. His hands went under Gladio’s shirt and Gladio stripped it, pressing the muscles of his chest into Ignis’ eager grasp. He pulled Gladio’s hand to his waist and Gladio clung. He traced his fingers over Gladio’s abdominals and the shield growled in pleasure.

Gladio pushed Ignis back against the lockers and Ignis gave back, stripping his sweat dampened tee over his head and allowing Gladio access to the warm, taught muscles underneath.

“Perhaps,” Ignis suggested, “since we are already something of a mess, a shower is in order?”

What a polite way of saying he wanted to see Gladio naked. Once they got the shower running Gladio hoisted Ignis’ legs around his waist and practically slammed him against the stall, unwilling to let his mouth go unkissed any longer. They let their hands go everywhere, exploring the lines and dips of bodies only teased at beneath their clothes. Maybe there would be a time to luxuriate in it, but right now Ignis was wound up, ready to snap after all the teasing they’d put themselves through.

“Gladio,” murmured Ignis between kisses. He tried to say something more, but Gladio wouldn’t let him, chasing his lips with quick kiss after kiss until Ignis was smiling. 

“Gladio! Gladio seriously.” Gladio pushed their bodies closer together, nosing at the spot under Ignis’ ear. Their hard cocks slid obscenely against warm, wet bodies. “How do you want to do this?” Gladio hummed, kneading Ignis’ ass. Fuck he had a nice, pert ass on top of a pair of delicious thighs …

“I want your thighs around my ears,” Gladio declared. He dropped to his knees, glad the tiles were warming up under the hot shower spray. Ignis gripped the top of the shower stall, but his weight was mostly supported by Gladio’s shoulders. Gladio grinned. Hell, what did he work out so much for if not for this? Ignis was watching him, enthralled, so Gladio nipped the meat of his thigh just to feel him shudder before he took Ignis’ cock, red and leaking, into his mouth. Ignis choked back a groan, Gladio’s name slipping out of his lips. Water pounded down on this, plastering Ignis’ hair to his forehead, and now that he was getting used to the spikes Gladio didn’t think he could look at Ignis with his hair like this again without seeing it it as debauched. He let the image burn into his mind, fuelling his hands where they dug into Ignis’ though and his mouth where it sucked in the taste of skin and sweat. Gladio went to town with little finesse, sucking in as much of Ignis as he could, flattening his tongue along the underside of his dick so Ignis could feel the slick slide of it. He hooked his ankles behind Gladio’s neck and rolled his hips a little, fucking Gladio’s mouth ever so slowly.

Gladio let him have it.

He loved seeing this wanton Ignis, loose and breathless and free like he’d been letting Gladio get glimpses of over the past couple of months. Ignis moaned again and his thighs tightened happily as Gladio worked the shaft of his eager cock. The rest of his body jerked and trembled deliciously, and he fisted a hand in Gladio’s hair.

“Glad-Gladiolus,” he panted, “you may want to - I’m not going to last much longer.” Gladio hummed in acknowledgement, pulling back far enough that he had just the head of Ignis’ cock in mouth before diving in so deep he felt it his the back of his throat and nearly gagged. Ignis came with a strangled sound, head thumping back onto the tiles chest heaving. Gladio eased off and spat into the shower drain before helping him sink to the floor of the stall. Ignis took Gladio’s face in both hands and kissed him, unashamed. Gladio finally took himself in hand, breath stuttering as he jerked his own neglected hardness. Ignis tuttered.

“Really, Gladio. Let me.”

“Please,” Gladio gasped, letting Ignis take him in deft hands. Gladio kissed Ignis while the man made short work of him, peppering his lips, his cheeks, his jaw, breath coming ragged.

_Finally, finally_.

Gladio spilled over Ignis’ hands, gasping against kiss swollen lips. When it was all over he rested his head on Ignis’ shoulder while the other man rinsed his hands under the shower stream. When he was done one hand came to rest on Gladio’s thigh, the other stroking up and down the warm, wet expanse of his back.

“So,” said Gladio, “nice talk. Does this mean we’re dating yet?”

They took their time after that, stealing many kisses and many, many touches as they finished their shower properly. Ignis was being indulgent, he admitted, letting Gladio take his time scrubbing him down and afterward towelling his hair while they giggled like a couple of schoolkids. Ignis kissed him one last time after they were dressed and ready to go, bracing himself for the rest of another long day.

“Back to the real world,” he sighed.

“Hey,” said Gladio, nuzzling his temple. “You know you can call me any time.”

“Ready to sweep me off my feet.”

“Mm.”

“Take me for a proper ride.”

“You know it.” Gladio followed Ignis to the door, wrapped in a happy warm fog of romance and steam. Cor was standing right outside, arms crossed, leaning against the wall and waiting.

“Marshal,” said Ignis, pushing up his glasses to hide his surprise even though they were already firmly seated.

“There you are. Took your sweet time,” Cor grumbled. Neither of them said anything as there was very little use in trying to justify themselves at this point, faces turning pink with embarrassment. Cor continued. “I heard about what happened with your uncle earlier.” Ignis stiffened.

“I’m sure a lot of people did,” he replied.

Damn, thought Gladio. They must have been fighting worse than he thought. He touched Ignis’ arm gently. _Don't worry_ , he was reminding him. _It's just Cor._

“Just wanted to make sure you were doing okay," Cor explained.

Ignis relaxed and bowed his head. “More than okay, Marshal. Thank you.”

“Yes, it looks like I was worried for nothing,” said Cor, looking pointedly over Ignis’ head at Gladio, who tried valiantly to look anywhere but at Cor. “Take care of him, Gladio.”

“Already did,” Gladio replied.

“I just wanted you to know,” said Cor, “that not matter what happens with your uncle and his politics, you’ll always have the crownsguard. We’re on your side, Ignis.”

Ignis relaxed and bowed his head. “I know. Your actions have spoken louder than your words, but I am grateful to hear you say it.”

Cor nodded and departed, never one to linger when there was more business to be done. He knew Ignis knew how to reach him. Gladio stuck with Ignis on the walk to his office. The dragged out the moment, walking slowly shoulder to shoulder.

“You feel better?” asked Gladio.

“For the time being,” Ignis affirmed. Gladio hummed in acknowledgement. As much as he would have liked it to be otherwise he knew fucking your problems into submission was only temporary and there was still a larger issue at hand. But Ignis knew he would be there for him.

“Hey, we should do something to make it official. Let me take you on a proper date.”

“I’d like that,” Ignis replied.

“Do you want to go to the Mercury on Friday? And then I can have time to arrange something a little fancier.” A smile tugged at the corners of Ignis’ mouth.

“I’d love to, but this week is going to be busy. I have several reports due and Noct has a project Monday and is behind in his progress. Staying out late is not in the stars, I’m afraid.” they arrived at the door of his office; Ignis wrapped his arms around Gladio’s waist and said goodbye with a final, chaste peck on the lips. “Someday soon,” he said. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to Anon who thought the pacing was believable.


	8. We Took the Floor and They Said

Gladiolus, on the other hand, was free from the burden of being the Prince’s shield as long as his highness was holed up with his advisor at the citadel. He was also the only one of his friends, it seemed, who had a free evening, and so despite the lack of a date he found himself once again at the Mercury. The actors on stage played a Niflheim generals trying to seduce Bahamut of the astrals for power on the behest of their emperor. There were a lot of puns being made about the word sword. Gladio drunk slowly, a little bored. He wondered how Iggy was getting along with Noct. He could probably just go join them, he realized. Chill on the couch with a beer and read while they worked. Or would Ignis see him as distracting to Noct. Would _Ignis_ see _him_ as a distraction? He fiddled with his phone and decided to just text Ignis anyway, just a quick, _How’s it going with the princess?_ He was preoccupied when one of the dancers, done with her act for the evening, came and sat next to him at the bar, still in her blue and black costume.

“I know you,” she cooed. “Our new regular. Or rather Shi-va’s,” she sang in a sing song voice. Gladio shrugged. Could neither confirm nor deny.

“I’m famous am I?” he asked. The dancer giggled.

“You’re kinda hard to miss.”

“I’d hate to steal the show.”

“I know Julian wanted to get your number last time you were here, until you went and bought a drink for Gina.”

Gladio snorted into his beer, muttering, “Oh shit,” and wiping it from his chin with the back of his hand.

“Gina’s my friend’s aunt, we were just having a laugh.” This seemed to pique the dancer’s interest, but Gladio was distracted by Ignis’ answer, his phone lighting up with Iggy’s picture to announce the arrival of his text. The dancer leaned over to take a peek, curious.

_Swimmingly_ , read Ignis’ reply. It was probably sarcastic. Gladio smiled. The woman crowding his space looked between the screen and Gladio’s wistful expression

“Who’s that?” she asked. “He the reason you look so glum tonight?”

Gladio shrugged, blushing a little. “I just … really wanted to take him on a date tonight.”

_Wish you were here_ , he texted back. _Miss you_. He became aware of someone else approaching the bar, and when he looked up to return to the conversation there was Shiva, standing _right there_ , not five feet from him, her hand on the back of her cohort’s chair. This close he could see the shimmer on her nails,and the green in her eyes. She had very green eyes, quite a bit like Ignis, and the similarity made Gladio dizzy. Smiling, she leaned down and whispered something in the dancer’s ear that made her giggle.

“What?” asked Gladio.

“Do you want to?” the dancer asked.

“Want to what?” Gladio was confused. The dancer grinned.

“Steal the show!" she explained. There was a pause in the conversation.

“What?” said Gladio again.

“Join us,” the dancer elaborated. “Most of the people here are non-professionals, and a lot of us got started in the audience, too.”

Gladio was a little flabbergasted, and also a little flattered. “It … actually looks kinda fun,” he admitted. He thought briefly about what he could do on stage. Couldn’t act, couldn’t sing, could barely dance. Maybe he could strip. Gladio put a lot of work into his body - who was saying he wasn’t allowed to indulge in it a little, enjoy the admiration of others knowing there was only one other person who could touch it.

Maybe his father would disown him. He wondered if Cor would still be on his side if he did _that_.

“But … I’ve got a lot of other responsibilities.” Gladio shrugged. “Why do you think I'm only here once in a blue moon?” 

Up on stage the skit concluded with the Emperor throwing himself lustily at the Draconian. Shiva returned his shrug. Too bad, she mouthed, her voice drowned out by the boos and hollers and applause. The lights on stage dimmed, giving the satirists time to clean up the stage for the next act. Shiva took this as her cue, waving goodbye to Gladio, fingernails shimmering, before heading backstage. She glanced at her phone as she walked, weaving expertly through the crowd, sash swaying with each click of her heels. Gladio’s phone buzzed with Ignis’ reply. Insomnia Burlesque’s dancer still had a grin plastered to her face, obviously enjoying the show of Gladio crushing on a drag queen while someone else’s photo lit up his phone. She leaned in conspiratorially.

“Shiva always says the same thing,” she told him, her voice lower than before. “Too busy to make it out more often, won’t talk about work at all, barely talks about herself outside of shows and practice. We were kinda suspicious but, well, Gina vouched for her.”

Gladio’s eyebrows made a valiant attempt to meet his hairline. 

“Yup,” she continued. Gina’s the original Queen of Shiva. This one is like, her protege.”

Gladio wondered if Ignis knew this, and realized that in all reality he probably did, hence his questions about Gladio’s time at the Mercury. Is that why he somehow got the impression that Ignis of all people approved of his choice of new watering holes? Did he think he was like, what, getting in touch with a certain side of himself?

“Some of the others think she tries to put on like, an air of mystery,” the dancer was saying. “But you know what?”

“What?” asked Gladio.

“She drives a government car. The ones with the backed out windows. I think she works at the citadel and doesn’t want to risk anyone at work finding out.”

Now Gladio really was interested. “You think so?”

“Oh yeah. She’s built, too. Like, athletic. I don’t think she’s just some government flunkie. I think she’s in the crownsguard.”

Gladio let out a bark of laughter, genuinely tickled by the idea. “There are worse things a soldier can do with their spare time, trust me. That’d make for one hell of a story, though. I can see the headlines now; Crownsguard Struts Their Stuff. Details at eleven.”

The room lights dimmed and the stage lights came to life once more, a familiar icy white. The dancer raised her glass to Gladio, then drained what was left in it all in one go.

“Enjoy the show, lover boy.”

* * *

Later that evening, Shiva lingered backstage listening to the rest of the troupe chatter around her, peeling off their makeup and trading costume tights for comfy sweats while she started thoughtfully at her phone, at the last message she had sent that night.

Miss you too, the message read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small updoot at 1am because we're expecting a big order at work tomorrow and I can't sneak on and do it before close.


	9. Don't You Dare Look Back

Dating Ignis (a fact that he finally confirmed, to Gladio’s enthusiastic fist pump) was great, when they got the chance to see each other. Between his duties to the crown and the crowns _guard_ , Gladio lead a pretty busy life, and Ignis’ schedule was even more chaotic, but they still found time to steal kisses in the hall and a few good gropes in the locker room.The rest of the guard wasn’t making it easy on them though.

“Y’ get one freebie,” said Nyx, cracking his knuckles, “then you better watch your backs.” He leaned into Gladio and leered. “There’s other people that want to use the shower, yeah? If you know what I mean.”

“Gross,” Gladio retorted, pushing Nyx’s face away even though he was being a bit hypocritical. Nyx cackled with mirth. The pair were parked on guard duty for the evening, slouching in their crownsguard finest in the blind spot of the cameras by the North Gate. There wasn’t much to do now that visiting hours had passed and most of the council had gone home.

“Seriously though,” he said. “I think you’re really good for Scientia. I’ve actually caught him smiling in public a few times.”

Gladio shrugged. “As much as I want to take all the credit, I can’t.”

Nyx raised his eyebrows. “You mean you’re not - ?”

“No we are,” said Gladio hastily, not sure if he was lying or not depending on whether Nyx meant _dating_ or _fucking_ , because they hadn’t really done the deed, strictly speaking (even though Ignis had reciprocated on the blowjob, which was an image Gladio would cherish forever no matter how many more times he might see it). “It’s just,” he continued, “Iggy’s never been as stuck up as you think he is. You’re just looking for it.”

Nyx twirled a kukri around his fingers thoughtfully. 

“You uh, probably don’t notice because you have to be with the prince more often than not,” said Nyx, “but the rest of the guard says whenever he’s not with his highness the minister of internal affairs is riding his ass about what you guys did.”

“His uncle, yeah,” Gladio grunted. “I know about that. He doesn’t like me.”

“Isn’t that like, almost treason?”

“He doesn’t dislike that I’m an Amicitia, he dislikes that I have a dick.”

“If it’s any consolation, it’s also rumoured that Amicitia dick finally melted the Ice Queen.”

Gladio groaned and crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. “I’m glad the entire crownsguard is convinced as to the quality of my dick. Anyway, don’t worry about the minister. He’s all bark and no bite. I’ve tried to talk to Iggy about it but he just insists he knows how to handle it. If you wanna do anything, make sure he doesn’t try some douchebag move like going behind his back to the prince.”

Nyx spun the kukri again and launched it into the thin trunk of a decorative tree.

“Please don’t kill him,” said Gladio.

* * *

Late spring rolled into early summer, and Gladio began to regret telling Nyx not to kill the minister. It seemed every second Ignis wasn’t in council or with Noct his uncle wanted to talk to him, to get him to think about what he was doing, about the family name, blah blah. Ignis developed a habit of walking around the citadel in time with the crownsguard patrols, just to have someone to talk to and make him look busy so the minister wouldn’t bother him

“I learned a lot about longswords today,” he said one afternoon, one long arm draped over his desk, head resting on his bicep. “Boy does Lieutenant Taft really like his longswords.” He said it the Tenebrean way, _lef-tennant_ , tapping his pen lethargically on a page of notes.

“Yeah, I always feel like they’re so flimsy,” said Gladio, who had his feet on the desk.. “At least the shorter swords you can put your weight behind …” He trailed off when he realized what Ignis was really complaining about. He puts his feet down, laced his fingers and twiddled nervously with his thumbs. “If this, if us is causing you too much stress -”

“No!” Ignis replied, with so much vehemence it was almost startling. He practically lunged over the desk to grab Gladio’s hand. “No, no, no, Gladio.” He takes Gladio’s hand in both of his and cradles it to his forehead. “ _He_ causes me stress. This? Us? It’s one of the few things that doesn’t.” His hands tighten. “Unless-”

“No,” Gladio repeated. “I just want you to be happy.” He squeezed back.

“Don’t let him get to you too,” said Ignis. “Promise?”

It was an easy promise to make, for Iggy’s sake. Gladio felt for him, though. He didn’t know what he would do if it were his old man. Ignis had Gina, too, for which Gladio was infinitely glad. He made more of a habit of spending his free time at the brick bungalow, claiming he’s making the most of it before Noct finished school and demanded more of his attention. Ignis had an apartment of his own, but it was hard to go home to an empty apartment expecting a sympathetic ear. He had a place of solace in Gina, in Gladio.

And still the fighting escalated.

“Dude,” Noct offered. “I can fire him if you want.”

“You cannot,” Ignis replied. “Not only because you lack the authority, but also because my personal matters would be a frivolous waste of your father’s time.”

Later that evening, Ignis and Gladio sat in a corner of the palace kitchen, steaming plates of fettuccine primavera on the counter between them. Ignis lounged, twirling the pasta on his fork, but refusing to take a bite.

“Eat,” said Gladio, who felt a little guilty stuffing his face like he was but A) he was hungry and b) it was delicious. “Please?” Ignis sighed. “Even if you didn’t like it, proper nutrition is very important,” Gladio quipped, using Ignis’ own words. Ignis at least found humour in it, turning up his lips and scoffing a little. “Though,” Gladio continued, “why you would ever bother to cook something you don’t like is beyond me.” Gladio lifted his laden fork, looked at it, let guilt overcome him, and put it back down

“I can probably guess what this is about.”

Ignis spun his fork a couple more times.

“I know why my uncle disapproves of my actions. I knew it had be addressed eventually, and I knew it would suck.” The blunt edge to Ignis’ vocabulary betrayed his fatigue. “I’m not usually one to put things off, but…”

“Family’s different,” Gladio finished for him.

“And I don’t exactly have a lot of it.”

Gladio put his hand on the counter, palm up inviting, and Ignis took it, letting Gladio squeeze and run his thumb over the top of his gloved hand. The casual intimacy was still new enough that is sent a thrill down his spine along with the glow of affection beneath his breast. He secretly wished that neither sensation would ever fade.

“How come,” Gladio hazarded, “you never went to live with Gina?” Ignis shrugged.

“We didn’t always get along as well as we do. She offered to take custody of me when I was younger, but I asked to stay with my uncle because I wanted to remain close to Noct. I felt like I’d be moving off and leaving my little brother behind to fend for himself. It wasn’t until late into highschool I realized how much it hurt her feelings, like it must have felt like I was saying what’s left of my family didn’t matter anymore. We reconnected when I sought to reconcile. Though she still doesn’t understand the depth of my duties, she respects them.”

“You should introduce her to Noct properly, like, rather than at a function full of aristocrats. We could have a euchre night.”

“Agreed. I want to, but usually Prompto lets Noct win at euchre, and Gina would just kick his ass.”

“Good. He wants to be treated like a normal boy anyway.”

“Speaking of family, has your father said anything?”

“”Bout what? Us?”

“Mm.”

Gladio blushed. “He said, ‘Does he make you happy?’ and I said ‘Yeah’ and he said, ‘Remember you still need to use condoms’ and I threw my gym towel at him because that was before we even like, kissed.” He looked sheepishly at their hands, like the big strong shield was afraid to admit he’d harboured an obvious crush. Ignis wrinkled his nose at the thought of being subjected to the rank, threadbare, sweat soaked disaster that was Gladio’s gym towel.

“Your poor father.” Though to be fair, Clarus’ workout attire probably wasn’t much better.

“Hey, he asked for it. Anyway, when Cor said the crownsguard has your back, that included my dad.”

“I’m glad,” Ignis said truthfully.

“Good. Eat. Don’t worry about us.”

Gladio, however, worried anyway. Ignis’ question hinted that the minister, having found Ignis’ resolve singularly steadfast, was moving beyond needling Ignis personally and moved on to seeding doubt in his mind about the effect he had on the people around him. And it wouldn’t be long again until the conversation turned to Noct. And once something was bad for Noct, Ignis would cut it from his life like taking a hacksaw to an infected limb. Except that Gladio was also so close to the prince that would be practically impossible and … yeah. It would be a messy operation to be sure. Thankfully the minister was not yet emboldened enough to involve the crown in what he wanted to keep a “family matter”.

Thus, inevitably, as long as it remained unresolved their conflict worsened. And one hot Friday afternoon they finally came to a head. Gladio was stuck in limbo, having shuffled his schedule so he could pick up Noct (and by extension, Prompto) to help with a school project so Ignis could spend the evening at his aunt’s. In the meantime he was helping his father, going over brochures for armoured cars and waiting for the king to be free so they could get his input. He’d probably reject them all in favour of the Regalia, anyway.

“I just think it’s kind of obvious,” said Clarus. “Honestly, I’d feel better if he drove around in that P.O.S. you drive. At least nobody would expect it.”

Gladio opened his mouth to explain to his father that his car was not a piece of shit, he spent his hard earned money on taking care of it thank you very much, when the man in question finally arrived. Gladio leaped to his feet to vacate his chair while the king shut the door to Clarus’ office quietly.

“Afternoon,” said Clarus.

“Is it?” replied King Regis, sinking into Gladio’s chair. “How time flies. Thank you, Gladio.”

“How was your meeting with the minister?”

“Fucking enlightening, to say the least,” said Regis, drawing his phone out of his pocket and drawing identical surprised expressions from father and son. “Listen to this.”

He hit play on a recording and from the speakers they could hear muffled shouting, two men in a very heated argument. It was, to Gladio’s surprise, Ignis and his uncle.

And they were going _off_.

Ignis was, Gladio knew, someone who regularly reserved the raising of his voice. By the time Ignis was shouting the other person, the situation, or more likely, Noct, was seriously fucked up. When Ignis shouted it carried weight, It had _gravitas_. His uncle, likewise, was schooled when he spoke. He preferred to use the tone of his words, not their volume, to get his point across. Even at the dance he had barely spoken above a normal volume. And now he was laying into his nephew in a way Gladio didn’t even know he was capable of.

_“He’s a disgrace to the family-”_

_“She saved lives! She’s your sister! And yet you’d elevate gossip over-”_

_“Do you even know what people say?”_

_“I don’t give a fuck!”_

_“They wonder what lessons you’re teaching the prince-”_

_“What, about the kind of good one person can do? About sacrifice?”_

_“About how seriously he needs to take his duty to his family!”_

_“Not this shit again-”_

_“You too! Amicitia’s a distraction you don’t need.”_

_Clarus looked at his son, who blushed._

_“There are lots of better people-”_

_“Lots of better women you mean.”_

_“The crown may bill itself as progressive, Ignis, but there are a lot of families who have been on the council for a long time who do not necessarily agree with the king’s lackadaisical attitude toward these matters-”_

Regis cut the conversation there. 

“Well,” said Clarus. “That sounded like something that should be kept private.”

“They were fighting like cats and dogs in the minister’s office,” said Regis. “They didn’t know I was out there; you could hear that _through the door_. I kind of want to know what their faces would be like if they did see me.”

“Should it though?” said Gladio. Both older men looked at him. “Be kept private, I mean. Seriously, if you tell the minister to keep it quiet isn’t it just feeding his uncle’s notions that this is something he has to keep private like its something to be ashamed of? There’s discretion, yeah, we’re not going to make out at council, but even when he says he’s got the crown’s best interests at heart he’s just saying it to save face.” Gladio took a deep breath, facing the stares of two of the most powerful men in the kingdom. “Unless…” he faltered, “with all due respect, Your Majesty, you don’t think Ignis is a bad influence?” What, he thought for a heart stopping second, if the answer was yes? How the hell would he stand by that in silence?

“No, Gladiolus,” said Regis softly. “Never. And never for that reason. I know exactly who those council members are, and as king it is my privilege to graciously ignore their grievances.”

Gladio let his breath go, not quite aware he had been holding it.

“Right,” he said. “Of course. I should, um,” he motioned to the door, “go check. Find Ignis. Pick up Noctis. He’s supposed to have a friend over to work on a project so, uh, I’m gonna get on that. Have- have a good afternoon.”

Gladio made for the door, hoping to shake the awkward off his shoulders.

“Gladiolus,” said Regis, just as he reached for the handle.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I’m free this evening, let Noctis know he and Prompto should join me for dinner.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Gladiolus.”

“No problem.”

Gladio booked it. He headed straight for the minister’s office, but by the time he arrived it had already been vacated. He whipped out his phone, texted Ignis, saw the time, and realized he should have left for the school five minutes ago.

_Hear you were arguing. Talk to me? Gotta pick up Noct. Will be back at the citadel in 30._

“The fuck is eating you?” said Noct as he climbed into the car, commenting on Gladio’s sour expression.

“What is with the royal family and your potty mouths today?” said Gladio, Ignoring the fact that he had been doing some profuse swearing of his own.

“Because sometimes you just have to enjoy the fact that nobody wants to tell you no,” said Noct. “Now spill. Is it Specs? Where is he?”

“He’s supposed to have the evening off,” Gladio grumbled. “Got into an argument with his uncle.” Noct winced. 

“Again?”

“Yeah. Really bad this time,” said Gladio, pulling out into traffic. 

“You’re pissed,” Noct observed. 

“Hell yeah I’m pissed!” cried Gladio, banging on the wheel of the car and startling Prompto. “I want to wring the minister’s neck or at least slap him until he sees some godsdammed sense! I want Iggy to feel like he can be Iggy and not have this asshole shouting in his ear that he needs to slam the door shut on himself because it’s supposed to be for everyone else’s good!”

Outside it began to rain, heavy drops splattering themselves against the windshield and the roof of the car.

“Anyway, he knows I’m picking you up, so he should text me back soon.” 

But by the time they had stopped to pick up snacks and Gladio finally had the boys settled in the library, Ignis had only replied with,

_I’m fine. I’m at Gina’s. Please don’t worry. I’m not going to let my uncle spoil my evening off._

Gladio stared at the message. It was not in the least what he had been expecting. He knew Ignis was calm, but not that calm. He should be pissed, he should be seething after that. Instead he was cool as a cucumber.

_Do you want me to come with?_ Gladio asked. 

_We’ll be ok, Gladio. Make sure Noct gets some work done on his project tonight. I’ll see you when I get home? If it’s not too late._

“Dude, you’re an idiot,” said Noct, leaning over to read Gladio’s phone. “Obviously he wants you to go over, why did you even ask?”

“Because … because she can help with things I can’t.” In all honesty it kind of stung. He thought Ignis was opening up to him, trusting him. 

“Then wait outside the door or something so he knows you’re there.”

“He knows I’m there if he texts me!”

“Yeah but you like, gotta let him know he’s the most important thing right now.”

“I am!” Gladio argued. “He trusts me to do the most important thing, which is his job, which I am doing! I mean, yeah I can be there, but here I can do something. I can’t do anything if I were there but just be there.”

The boys gave him twin sympathetic looks.

“Sometimes,” said Prompto, “just being there is the best thing you can do.”

“Yeah,” Noct added. “Don’t worry about us. Dad always drags dinner out for hours, anyway.”

Gladio deflated, pinned down by the unrelenting, knowing pity of the younger boys.

Gladio sighed. “Alright. Astrals, alright!” He threw his hands up and stood. “You’re having dinner with your dad, so put a shirt and tie on Prompto before you go. Prompto, your job is to make sure Noct eats at least one vegetable. I don’t care if it’s a single bean, as long as it makes its way to his stomach. And you message me your opening arguments by ten, or your doing burpees tomorrow. Same goes for you, Prompto, if you want to see the inside of the shooting range.”

Prompto acknowledged Gladio with a stiff salute.

“Aye aye, captain!” Noct rolled his eyes.

“Hey Gladio?” Noct called.

“Yeah?” said his shield.

“Let Specs know were on his team. I mean, I know he probably knows but I think he’d like to hear it, yeah?”

“Will do,” Gladio promised. He jogged down to the parking garage, squeezed himself into his not a piece of shit car and into the evening Insomnian traffic. It was still raining, washing the city grey speckled with a million tiny lights, and slowing the already hesitant crawl of the traffic. Gladio drummed his fingers on the wheel at every red light, tensed up with impatience until he reached the brick bungalow by the university.

There were no lights on, inside or out. Gina’s car was still parked out front, but there was obviously no one home. Okay, okay, so they must have gone out, treating themselves to dinner or something. No law against that. Gladio fiddled with his phone, rain drumming on the roof of his car. He wanted to text Ignis, but showing up unannounced and concerned was supposed to be the romantic thing; asking why someone wasn’t in an empty house was kind of creepy. Gladio settled on a more neutral message.

_Noct and Prom are having dinner with HRM. Don’t know how much work is going to get done tonight. I’m going to go out to grab something to eat._ Gladio hit send, hoping upon hope that Ignis would reply with an offer to join them, as unlikely as that may seem. God, he was being a creep. He should just go get Iris and they could go out for tacos or he could, gods forbid, tell Ignis how fucking pissed he was at his uncle. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t answering, Gladio thought. Ignis needed someone calm, someone logical, not someone who took their frustrations out on a punching bag.

Then why did he come to you in the gym the other week? Why-

Gladio’s phone buzzed in the cupholder. He grabbed for it, heart pounding at the sight of Ignis’ name on the notification.

_That’s good,_ it read. _I’m glad they’re finding time together. Have you tried the hamburgers at the Mercury? I think you’ll like them._

Gladio blinked at the message. He didn’t even know they served food, to be honest. He was always sort of distracted while he was there. And the Mercury wasn’t even that far from here. It would be show night, too.

Gladio leaned back in the driver’s seat and sighed. Ignis was right when he said he wasn’t going to let the minister spoil his planned evening. If anything, Gladio was apparently letting it spoil his evening. And now he was pissed all over again.

Gladio arrived at the Mercury earlier than usual, so he ordered food at the bar and snagged one of the tables near the stage. He settled his ass in one chair and his foot on the other, projecting a maximum air of “do not disturb”. The dancer who had accosted him the month before opened the night, showing off her belly dancing skills with three other girls while Gladio picked at his hamburger. It was good; trust Ignis to find something that rose above the typical pub fare. But that acidic anger still simmered in his gut, drowning out any real hunger and any interest on what was happening on stage. Gods, he thought. I shouldn’t have come here. He should have just gone back to the citadel, or grabbed grub with his family, and be glad that Noct was getting the time to spend with his Or something. He glanced back up at the stage as the act was ending. The dancer caught Gladio’s eye and winked. Gladio looked away, took a big swig of beer. He was going to right his wrongs and get out of here as fast as he could.

The changeover on stage was quick; the belly dancers didn’t have any props or bits of clothing to clean up. The lights dimmed. A mic was brought out. Gladio took an unhealthy mouthful of his hamburger. Maybe once he finally got Ignis to come out he would get him to try it and teach him how to make them. The stage hand made themselves scarce and the lights came up again, red and orange like a fire, just as the music began. Shiva walked onstage, heels meeting the wood in time to the music, and Gladio nearly choked. She headed straight for the mic, none of her usual greetings or crowd pleasers; tonight it was right to business. She wore a red corset, a little worn around the edges, and freshly shined black pumps. Her lips and nails were fire instead of diamonds, and she glared out over the crowd with heavily shadowed eyes. Usually Shiva preferred her frosty whimsy; today was a fairy tale of a different kind.

The music started off gentle, maybe a little more electronic than Insomnia Burlesque’s usual fare. Shiva was just lip synching today, letting the music do all the talking. She swayed her hips to the music, arching when the singer cooed, caressing the microphone like a lover. Rhythmic, steady. Hypnotizing.

Then the first verse hit, the beat dropped and Shiva looked Straight. At. Gladio. She didn’t stop singing, didn’t stop dancing, but now her hips snapped suggestively with the emphasis in the singer’s words, flashing the slit in her skirt. The chorus of the song hit with a wall of electronic noise, and Shiva flipped back to sensual, punctuating the crash of electronic cymbals with the movement of her body. She crawled off the stage, closer to Gladio. She made sure she saw her. She made sure he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Gladio was pinned , held in place by her dance, the object of her desire.

And yeah, it was fucking hot.

Gladio shifted, bringing down his leg to keep his privacy from prying eyes. Shiva saw him squirming and smirked, the corners of her mouth turning up suggestively. She drew Gladio in so thoroughly that for a moment there was only the two of them and the music, fire on her lips and the static in Gladio’s ears. His body sang, his mind spiralling, the flex of her thighs making him think of Ignis in the shower, the mic stand in her hands of his lance in the garden, her dance and his dance, only for Gladio. His eyes followed Shiva as the song came to a close. Gladio was left suspended, unfinished, his mind and body ringing, heat on his cheeks and between his legs. He needed …

He needed Ignis.

Gladio downed the rest of his beer in one desperate gulp and grabbed for his phone, jamming Ignis’ number, and finally, finally Ignis picked up on the ring.

“You home yet?” he asked. “I-”

“Thirty minutes,” said Ignis. “I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gladio actually has two cars. I like to think that all the other rich kids around him drive like, fancy sports cars and Clarus owns a BMW at minimum and then when Gladio decided he wanted a car for himself he thought, hm, what makes a good car for me? And ended up buying like a standard Toyota SUV because it was good on gas and could fit all his camping gear and it shows his dad he's being sensible. And its actually a very decent car, it just makes him look like a suburban dad and not the heir to the second most powerful family in the land, and he doesn't understand why he has to defend it to Clarus all the time. So he finally caved and said fine, I'll get a fancy car, but he buys like a vintage model on the cheap and is like, aha! I'll fix it up! It' will be good for character! I'll show them! Only he never actually does because he never has time and it just sits in pieces in the garage. Meanwhile it's not like it's about the machismo to Clarus, he just grew up in a wealthy family and is like, why, if you can afford, did you not buy, fancy car??


	10. Just Keep Your Eyes on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut

Gladio actually made it to the apartment first, dashing across the parking lot through the rain. He was leaning on the wall next to the door when Ignis rounded the corner and spotted him. His hair was wet and flat, his cheeks flushed and his eyes rubbed a little red. He looked surprisingly relieved to see Gladio, excited enough that he broke into a half jog, crashing into him in front of the door, taking him bodily and crushing their mouths together. Ignis was open and inviting, his tongue on Gladio’s lips, hips pressed flush.

“Mmph,” Gladio grunted. “Inside? Maybe?”

Ignis released him long enough to unlock the door and pull him inside the apartment before plastering himself against Gladio once more. Gladio was still buzzing, his head still ringing from the music and his body thrummed with the beat of the song.

_Steal my blood and steal my heart_

Ignis quickly grew hard against him, encouraging Gladio’s own arousal, teasing him with his cock beneath his jeans. 

“If you want me,” Ignis murmured, “I’m all yours.”

Gladio replied with a growl, shoving Igni back against the wall. f course he wanted him, wanted all of him, wanted everything Ignis was willing to give. 

_Whatever it takes to get you off_

He tore at the buttons of Ignis’ shirt, exposing the long, ale lines of his skin to eager hands. Ignis likewise did the same, divesting Gladio of his jacket and tossing it away carelessly before doing the same with his tee shirt. Their hands were everywhere, drinking in hot skin on hot skin, and still it felt like it could never be enough.

_I’m your bitch, you’re my bitch_

Gladio’s belt was the next thing to go, landing with a thump and a clank. He hauled Ignis up and over onto the counter separating his living room and kitchen, pushing up between his legs. He worshiped the long column of Ignis’ throat while he toed out of his boots and Ignis peeled off his oxfords.

_In my bones and in my soul_

Raw desire crackled between their bodies, overwhelming them, making them sloppy and careless. Wet kisses full of tongue, Ignis knocking the pepper off the counter, Gladio tripping over his pants, unwilling to take his hands of Ignis even for a second, even though it hindered them getting closer. 

_Always be in your control_

Ignis divested himself of his pants and underwear in one go, leaving him in nothing but his specs and socks on the kitchen counter. Gladio groaned into Ignis’ mouth, grabbing roughly onto his hips, digging his fingers into flesh and bone and jerking Ignis to the edge of the counter so he could grind their cocks together.

_I’m your bitch, you’re my bitch_

Ignis gasped at the feeling of soft, worn cotton against his over sensitive skin, and the promise of Gladio’s arousal beneath. The sound rang straight through to Gladio’s core, and nothing else mattered except hearing it again, and again, and again. It left him with just enough mental capacity to think Maybe not on the kitchen counter, but not enough to say it out loud, so he just picked Ignis up, intent on carrying him to the bedroom.

_Gimme that stuff that feels so pure  
Stamp me with your signature_

Ignis clamped his legs around Gladio, not pausing in his crusade of pawing, grinding, and running his tongue all over every inch of him that he could reach. Gladio stumbled, crashing them into the wall again, and stole that little noise from Ignis again when he flexed to keep them upright. For what other reason did he work out indeed. They finally stumbled into the bedroom, Gladio falling back on the bed with Ignis on top of him. Ignis’ knees slid to either side of Gladio’s hips, with just enough space that he could get his hands in and tug down the waistband of Gladio’s boxer briefs. All the while their mouths tangled wetly, each vying to possess the other. Gladio’s cock was thick and throbbing, eager for the cool touch of Ignis’ deft fingers.

_I’m your bitch, you’re my bitch_

Ignis stroked Gladio roughly, squeezing Gladio’s cock like he wanted to own it. Gladio grunted uncomfortably, but Ignis only pressed in harder and nipped Gladio’s lip, egging him on.

“Well fine,” said Gladio. “If that’s how you want it.” He snagged Ignis’ hips once more and flipped the pair of them so Ignis was sprawled on his back, knees spread. Gladio could feel Ignis’ heart and it was hammering, kicking like a jackrabbit beneath his ribs. Ignis seemed to realize suddenly how exposed he was and shivered slightly against the cool sheets.

“Aw, baby,” Gladio murmured. “Let me warm you up again.” Ignis accepted his offer greedily, and when Gladio sucked into the spot on his neck beneath his ear and ground down Ignis gasped out a sound like a choked off sob.

“Do it again,” Gladio whispered, nipping at the sensitive skin, and he was rewarded with a louder, pleading cry. “How do you want me to warm you up?” Gladio growled.

“I want you to open me up,” said Ignis, “and then lay on your back.”

_We do things a different way  
It’s up to you and it’s up to me (hey hey)_

“That,” said Gladio, “I can do.”

Ignis couldn’t keep still beneath him, writhing, petting, nipping, sucking, kissing fucking onto Gladio’s fingers like they were and elixir and he was a dying man. By the time he told Gladio he was good Gladio was more than ready to lay back and watch as Ignis took the reigns. Ignis took Gladio with abandon, sinking down until their hips were nearly flush, then lifting himself and doing it again, and again. The lights were still off the bedroom, leaving Ignis lit starkly on one side by the yellow light from the hallway and Gladio’s cock glistening obscenely where it disappeared inside him. Gladio lifted his knees, wrapped his hands around Ignis’s hips, fucked back into him and Ignis practically sang, incoherent praise for Gladio and his body spilling from his lips. Ignis took his own cock in hand, fucking back onto Gladio and forward into his hand until his thighs began to shake and he could take it no longer. Ignis fell forward to kiss Gladio, fucking his mouth with his tongue as he came over his stomach and chest. Gladio responded with a feral growl, holding Ignis so he could fuck him hard and deep. Ignis chuckled knowingly, grabbing Gladio’s hair and pulling his head back to expose his throat, skimming his teeth and tongue over Gladio’s pulse. Gladio let out a growling plea, and Ignis tightened his grasp.

“Do it again,” he demanded, scraping his teeth along Gladio’s pulse before he bit down on the base of his neck. Gladio shuddered and came with a cry, unashamed to let himself be heard.

_I’m your bitch, you’re my bitch_

They lay like that for a while, chest to chest, Ignis’ face buried in Gladio’s neck, playing idly with his hair while they came down from their high. Gladio yawned; he couldn’t help himself, sated and cosy as they were. Ignis took it as a signal, peeling himself from Gladio and fetching a washcloth for their sticky stomachs. But he was back on the bed in no time, head pillowed on Gladio’s chest.

“Feel better?” asked Gladio. Ignis snuggled in closer and sighed.

“Much.” His voice was thick with fatigue and satisfaction.

“Talk in the morning?”

“In the morning,” Ignis agreed. He drifted, lulled to sleep by the strong, steady rhythm of Gladio’s heart.

_(boom boom)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter and the last is ["Bitch"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_xw1JDLN_A) by Allie X


	11. I Said You're Holding Back

Gladio awoke naked and in a strange bed.

This in and of itself was not a new experience, but it usually meant spooning a warm body, or listening to someone putter about their morning routine, not waking up to them sitting in bed drinking coffee and answering emails on his tablet at - Gladio glanced at the clock - 7am on a Saturday.

“Iggyyy,” he whined. Gladio secured an arm around Ignis’ middle and buried his nose against his hip. “Sleep in like a normal person. Noct ain’t even going to be awake til like, noon.”

“Which makes this an excellent time to attend to council matters. Besides, I’ve already had half a cup of coffee.” Ignis put the tablet aside and Gladio put his head in his lap like a cat looking for affection. When he’d gotten up for coffee Ignis had put on a pair of boxer briefs. They were soft against Gladio’s cheek and smelled like fresh laundry and musk. He gave Ignis his best kitten eyes. Ignis smiled indulgently and combed his fingers through Gladio’s hair.

“Getting long,” he commented.

“Mhm.”

“Plans to grow it out?”

“Mm. Would you like that?”

“I would.”

They lay for a moment in silence, Gladio’s thumb working idle circles on Ignis’ thigh. Ignis reached for his coffee.

“How did it go with Noct yesterday?” he asked

“I don’t think much got done, sorry,” Gladio admitted. Ignis sighed.

“Let me take a guess, ‘Oh Gladio, it’s fine, you have to go and kiss him and make sure he’s the most important thing in the world because your man is feeling blue’.”

“Dammit Iggy.”

“They played you like a fiddle,” Ignis chuckled. 

“Speaking of last night,” said Gladio, “What happened?I mean, I get you don’t like treating other people like a punching bag, maybe? But you had no problem coming to me when you were upset before.”

Ignis put his coffee down without touching it.

“I needed to get away, to be honest.” He added his other hand to Gladio’s hair, twining the dark locks around his fingers. But unlike the night before there was a hint of nervous energy in his movements. “I love my work. I love the Citadel. But sometimes, especially with my uncle around life can get … overwhelming.” Gladio continued kneading slow, comforting circles into his thigh. “I need those evenings with my aunt. I need to get away, even just for a little. Just put it all behind me.” Gladio looked up at Ignis. He looked … unsure about something.

“Hey,” said Gladio, propping himself up on his arm so he could kiss Ignis softly. “It’s not like you’re running away or anything. I getcha. Even the best of us need some breathing room. Why do you think I like survival training so much? You should come with us next time.”

Ignis humphed, amused.

“It’s silly, really. Some of it’s … actually not as bad as I had figured it to be.”

“Hm?”

“I -ugh,” said Ignis, pulling Gladio against his chest and flopping back onto his pillows. “Never mind.”

“I don’t miiind,” said Gladio. “I care. If you wanna talk about your uncle, I’m here to listen. Or take a punch. Or throw a punch.”

“Tempting, but I believe we must do our utmost to remain the more level headed party.”

“Noct would say something on your behalf. Or Cor.”

“I don’t want to involve anyone else if I don’t have to.” Ignis’ arms tightened on Gladio’s shoulders. “I didn’t even mean to involve you this deeply. I really am sorry.”

“Hey,” said Gladio. He pushed himself back up onto his elbow, because right now he needed to look Ignis in the eye and let him know he was serious. There would be time in the future to cuddle his bare chest, as much as he loved it. “I hate to break it you Ignis, but people care about you. And if he does keep it up, someone else might consider him a threat to Citadel security.”

“I know,” said Ignis, running a hand up and down Gladio’s arm. “But I need to come to an understanding with him on my own. Or - or end it, on my own. And before you try and make yourself feel guilty, a lack of your presence doesn’t make me any less gay. As I said, this is a conversation that has been a long time coming. But I’m glad that you’re here.”

Gladio leaned over and kissed Ignis on the forehead. Once he’d let himself fall, he was falling hard for Ignis Scientia.

“What’s your plan of action?”

“Well,” said Ignis, stretching, “our last conversation went abysmally, as you know. Gina has some ideas on how to be more … direct.”

“Oh?”

“She thinks I need to be more up front. Less compromising.”

“And you?”

“I’m inclined to agree. Hesitance has only served to further his fervour. I need to tell him in no uncertain terms that, hm, even if change were an option, it would be foolish and I would not accept it.” Ignis hummed thoughtfully, running the tips of his fingers up and down Gladio’s arm, tickling the lines of his tattoo. “I’ll have to give my methodology some thought, however.”

Gladio leaned up and kissed the corner of Ignis’ mouth. _Okay_ , it said. He’d been hoping for an answer a little more concrete, but these things he knew took their time.

“Before I forget,” said Ignis, which he wouldn't but anyway, “Gina's 50th is coming up and the party is to be a surprise, and I've been instructed to bring a plus one. In other words, she told her friends I’ve been seeing someone, and you’re invited.”

* * *

They held the party at the Mercury, where, as it turned out, a lot of Gina’s friends and students had their stomping grounds. Gladio made an effort to look nice on Ignis’ behalf in ironed slacks and a blazer and people, knowing only that Ignis was dating someone from work, kept asking him which ministry he worked for.

“Defense,” Gladio always replied. Mostly he just hovered by Ignis’ elbow, making the most of his cheat day and making small talk. He’d expected a bunch of stuffy intellectuals, but Gina’s crew were a chatty bunch, mostly interested in getting the details on this nephew she spoke of so fondly and how up to date he was on citadel gossip (Ignis’ M.O. was, of course, to never let on exactly how much he did or did not know). The dancer from Insomnia Burlesque - Gladio finally learned her name was Gemma - was in attendance. And she managed, as always, to sidle up to him, this time while Ignis was preoccupied speaking with a poli-sci professor from the university.

“So,” said Gemma. “I hear they call you Gladiolus.”

“‘S my name, don’t wear it out.”

“Gladiolus, Gladiolus. Well, Gladiolus, I take it Ignis is the mysterious man who commands all your attention.” She giggled at Gladio’s blush. “You work at the Citadel too, huh? If I remember correctly, there’s a fellow named Gladiolus pretty high up in the crownsguard, right next to the king.”

“Not gonna deny it.”

“So I guess if Shiva were in the crownsguard, you would recognize them right away.”

“Yeah, I would. And you’re wrong - there’s no one else from the crownsguard here. Just me and Ignis.”

Gemma giggled again. Gladio assumed her current saciness had something to do with the mimosa in her hand.

“That’s fair. I’ll give you a hint, though.” Gemma leaned in conspiratorily. “Shiva is here.”

Gladio shifted nervously, trying to hide how that statement made his heart thump.

“Good,” he replied. “You said they were close, right? I’m glad they could make it. Say hi for me.”

Gemma was grinning so hard it looked painful.

“Okay,” she squeaked. “I’ll give you one more clue - you’ve already said hi.” Gemma coquettishly shoved her face back into her mimosa to hide her giggles, a move Gladio doubted would make a difference in the long run. She sighted someone else she knew and disappeared back into the crowd. Gladio fought to control the race car his mind was on. He was falling for Gemma’s antics hook , line and sinker. He’d shook hands with about half the folks in here, and now he was desperately trying to remember who that was, and who at the party best fit the bill.

“Astrals,” Gladio swore. He wasn’t here for that; he was here because of Ignis, for fuck’s sake. Shiva and Gemma were probably fucking with him, which kinda stung a little because he liked Gina, and he honestly would really like to meet someone who impressed her enough to be taken on as her protege. Gladio slunk back over to Ignis’ side, and Ignis wound an arm through the crook of his elbow. He looked good today. He was taking it easy; no vest, no tie, just his favourite purple shirt, undone to reveal the tantalizing V between his collar bones.

Gladio wanted to suck a hickey into it so bad.

“What’s Gemma bothering you about?”

“Nothing. Met her here a couple of times, just saying hi. Anyone bothering you?”

“Unfortunately,” Ignis replied. “I promised to make a speech and they’re telling me it’s about time.”

Gladio reached to the table behind him and picked up a glass.

“Mimosa?”

Ignis took the glass, wetting his tongue before he began to speak. Ignis was used to debating at council, but Gladio had never seen him speak in front of a real crowd before. He handled it like a natural. Straight backed, bright eyed and dashingly handsome. Why should he be nervous, Gladio realized. There were much worse things to be afraid of.

“The most important think my aunt taught me,” Ignis said, “is that no one else makes the decisions for us on who we want to be. She taught me what it meant to step out of one’s comfort zone, how to shine a new light on ourselves and teach us how to love ourselves. Let your love shine, and people will want to bask in its light.”

He held up his drink for a toast, and the glass caught the light to match the sparkle in his eyes.


	12. They Said Shut Up and Dance With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took 5ever to post it's been a week.

_“I’ll meet you at the Mercury.”_

That’s what the note said. A proper date, at last. Last minute, too. Gladio felt a little guilty that Ignis was giving up his hard earned time off to go somewhere Gladio obviously liked more than him. He’d make it up to Ignis, he promised himself. Take him out to a fancy restaurant, or get up early and go to the farmer’s market, or heck, even a movie. But today he could buy his boyfriend (his cheeks heated up thinking of the word boyfriend, but in a good way) a few drinks and enjoy the atmosphere. Gladio showered, entered a debate about which jacket to wear, and finally decided it was too warm for any of them. He was sticking the last back in his closet when his eyes caught on a dark green button up that he’d bought on a whim simply because it looked good (like, hella good) but which he also wore almost never because most formal occasions called for his crownsguard black. What the heck, he decided. Iris caught sight of him on his way out the door and wolf-whistled. Gladio tried to give her the finger and put on his boots at the same time and nearly fell flat on his face. Iris’ laughter followed him out onto the street.

But hey, at least he looked good.

Gladio waited for Ignis outside the Mercury, scrolling through his phone and soaking up the last of the sun’s rays. 

_Running late_ , said Ignis through a message. _Don’t wait on my behalf_. Gladio sent back a sad faced emoji.

_xxoo_ , Ignis relplied. _See you soon_.

Gladio dropped himself at the bar as the sun disappeared, casting his eyes around the room. He recognized a few faces from Gina’s party, but nobody he knew well enough to chat with until Ignis arrived. And Ignis was … really taking his time to arrive. Gladio fidgitted, debating waiting outside again and cursing whatever council work was eating Iggy’s hard earned free time. Or it was Noct. It was probably Noct. Even though he’d planned on staying put for the evening Ignis had a tendency to fuss, to make sure every scrap was in place before he felt okay to leave.

Fuck it, Gladio decied. He’d go find Ignis and they could spend the night in. He stood up as the lights dimmed, looked to the door and saw -

Ignis’ uncle?

With his sister?

Gina caught his eye and waved, making a motion for Gladio to it back down. Gladio sat back down, struck by the sudden knowledge that Gina knew more about what was going on than he did, and that things were going to be interesting. He watched the pair more than he watched the first act, some kind of Justice Monsters five parody. Gina was trying to keep her brother, who looked both uncomfortable and bored, occupied. He doubted either of them knew or cared what Justice Monster Five even was. Gladio vaguely remembered Ignis not being allowed to see the movie in theatres when they were kids, at least not until Noctis, the prince, insisted he be there. As a kid Ignis never asked for a lot - he always did prefer to reserve favours for when he felt they were most needed. And even then he had been denied, forced to stay home and study until Noct took it upon himself to right his friend’s misery. Noct won Iggy’s heart so easily because all he’d seen at the time was just another kid like any other kid, when everyone else’s expectations of them were so high. You really didn’t have to dig very far into Ignis Scientia to find a guy who knew how to have a little fun.

Gladio applauded along with the rest of the audience, checking his phone in between acts.

_Almost there!_ Said Ignis. _I think Gina went? You should go say hi this time._

Gladio knew he was probably right, so he pocketed his phone and picked up his beer, and made his way to the Scientia’s table.

“Hello Gladio!” Gina crooned, making his name rhyme with the greeting.

“Amicitia,” said the minister.

“Minister,” said Gladio, taking a seat.

“What are you doing here?” asked the minister, half question, half accusation.

“Got a hot date,” Gladio replied and grinned, baring his teeth. 

“And where is he?” asked the minister, unimpressed. Gladio shrugged.

“Held up at work.”

“Good,” the minister grumbled. “He needs to refocus.”

“He needs some days off is what he needs,” Gladio retorted. The minister said nothing. Gladio, satisfied for the time being, turned to Gina.

“So, you know Gemma?” he began., intent on asking about her protege. He wanted to continue, but was interrupted when the lights dimmed and the Queen of Shiva began her set. Gladio turned away from the minister so he couldn’t see his face burn, remembering the last time. He wished Ignis would get here already. Shiva was back to her usual getup, only this time accented by a pair of long, grey gloves, cut to free the ends of her fingers and her long nails.

“I’ve got a friend here today,” Shiva announced. “It’s his first time, so let's show him a good one, hm?” A few of the crowd hollered and clapped, the music drowning them out as Shiva began. She seemed to be focusing a lot more on dance today. It was interesting, a little more intricate than usual. Gladio recognized some of the steps Ignis had taught him, and even though they’d been designed for the ballroom they fit well with the tempo of the pop music filling the Mercury. But something wasn't quite right. The steps never looks quite right, not without -

“This isn’t working,” said Shiva. “You can’t dance like this without a partner.” A couple of enthusiastic hands went up in the audience, Gemma being one, inciting a wave of laughter. “I've said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Shiva drawled. “A good man is hard to find. So I did what all girls do when they can’t find a boy to satisfy their needs -”

“You got a girlfriend!” a female voice hollered from the crowd. The room, including Shiva, had a good laugh at that one.

“I was going to say,” said Shiva, composing herself and stretching out a hand, “I went out and bought one.” A lance materialized in her hand.

Gladio gawked. He recognized the crownsguard design of the weapon.

The minister gawked.

Gladio’s first thought was, _Holy shit, Gemma was right._ His second thought was, _Holy shit, I know who that lance belongs to._ Several gears clicked into place at once, a picture puzzle falling into place in Gladio’s mind and he rounded on Gina, mouth agape. Gina was laughing silently, trying to control her breathing, and was only able to nod.

Minister Scientia got up and left.

Shiva finished her set with the lance as her partner, twirling around it, dipping it, using it to pull her feet off the ground, swinging the lethal weapon with ease as if it were no more than a marching band baton. The well polished edges caught the light and flashed, adding a deadly, tantalizing edge to an otherwise innocent routine. As the song rose to a climax, Shiva spun the lance in front of her, planted the tip and launched herself into the air. For a heartstopping moment she caught the light and glittered like a shooting star.

Shiva soared.

_Holy shit,_ Gladio realized, as he watched her suspended above the stage, throwing of light like a glittering diamond. _She’s wearing five inch heels._

* * *

“Soo,” said Clarus Amicitia. He was holding his morning coffee in one hand and a half sized newspaper in the other. “There’s a photo of you in the tabloids, my darling son, carrying an injured drag queen out of a club on Church Street.”

“Yeah,” said Gladio, around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “She’s a family friend of Iggy’s. She sprained her ankle performing and we took her to the hospital.”

“And how did Ignis also manage to sprain his ankle?”

“I had one too many and fell down the steps at the hospital,” said Ignis, matter of factly, one leg wrapped in a tenser propped up on a chair as they ate breakfast around the Amicitia’s kitchen table.

“That the official story?”

“Yes,” both men replied in unison.

“Well then,” said Gladio’s father, “it’s a good thing you were already at the hospital.”

“Yes,” said Ignis, “very lucky indeed.”

“There’s also reports that the performer is also a member of the crownsguard - apparently they can summon a weapon?” Clarus sighed. “I’ll have to get Cor to issue a memo about frivolous use of the king’s magic.” He turned to Ignis and his son. “Of course, I’m sure I don’t need to remind either of you about that.”

“Yes sir,” they answered once again in unison.

“Glad to hear it. Are you going to take it easy today, Ignis? You can rest here, if you like. Jared will fetch anything you might need.”

“I plan to stay off my feet,” Ignis assured him, “but unfortunately his highness still has homework with which he needs assistance. Gladio can help me get around, do all the required driving etcetera.”

“I also gotta make sure he follows the doctor’s orders and really does take it easy,” Gladio teased.

“I appreciate the offer, however,” said Ignis, ignoring Gladio, “thank you.”

“Any time,” Clarus replied, draining the last of his coffee and rising to his feet..

“Say hello to His Majesty for us,” said Ignis.

“Will do,” Clrus replied, leaving the table to the boys. Ignis followed suit, draining his mug and stretching to crack his back. He was wearing an old track suit of Gladio’s, and there was still a hint of glitter in his hair. 

“We should get my things from Gina, then I want to go back to my place for a shower and a change.” Ignis had spent the night at the Amicitia manor, locked out of his apartment because his clothes and keyes had been forgotten at the Mercury and picked up by Gina. By the time they got out of the hospital it had been late and they had been too tired to bother waking her. Instead, they snuck Ignis into the manor, cleaned him up and tucked Shiva’s costume into an old suit bag lingering at the back of Gladio’s closet. By the time Gladio hauled Ignis into bed they were giddy an exhausted.

_“Painkillers kicking in?” Gladio had asked sleepily._

_“Mm,” Ignis affirmed, tucking himself into Gladio’s warm chest. Gladio slung an arm around his waist, rubbing circles into the jut of Ignis’ hip-bone with the pad of his thumb. Ignis stretched languorously. It was a good look on him; Gladio would hang onto it, a secret reminder when they had to wake up and face the reality of the everyday._

_“Thank you,” Ignis murmured._

_“Hey, it’s nothin’,” Gladio replied. “Shit happens. You get hurt, I’ll be there to pick you up.”_

_“Mm, I meant for proving Gina right.”_

_“Right about what?” asked Gladio_

_“She said, ‘Other people want to feel how warm you are.’”_

_“What?” Gladio repeated, but Ignis had already drifted off to sleep._

“And,” Ignis sighed, “I suppose you’ll want an explanation. I was rambling somewhat last night.”

“Painkillers and five hours of sleep will do that.”

“Indeed.” Ignis looked at his empty mug, then held it out to Gladio. Gladio took it and got up to procure Ignis his refill. No milk, no sugar. Black as they sky on a moonless night.

"I love my aunt, but we aren't always sunshine and rainbows."

"Families hardly ever are."

"We argue about my work. She thinks it's not the real me. That it's too stifling.” Ignis ran the tips of his fingers delicately over the warm contours of his coffee mug. “I know I can be aloof. That people call it cold. I know they call me the Ice Queen.”

“Yeah, but,” said Gladio instinctively, “those people don’t really know you though. They don’t get to see all the crazy cool stuff you can do and how much fun it is.”

“You didn’t either, for a long time,” Ignis reminded him. “The first time I went on stage - about eight months ago now? Long before you first saw me - I did it because we’d been arguing. Her illness had progressed to the point where she couldn’t keep up the energy to be on stage any more, I felt guilty, and I wanted a way to cheer her up.”

“And what, you fell in love with the spotlight? Started a romance with the stage?”

“Hardly,” Ignis scoffed. “More like … everything else I’d been worried about suddenly didn’t seem so bad. I do my job and I do it well, and I enjoy it. I thought I had everything slotted into place. I thought I knew how the word worked, and what my place in it meant I had to be. Why risk it, especially if things were good? Gina forced me - well not literally forced me but you get it - to step beyond the boundaries I imagined were there and discover that I was perhaps, maybe, a tad, over exaggerating. And that going for things that I was worried would be silly or beyond my reach wasn’t so bad.. I realized they weren’t as far away from being a part of my life as I’d assumed.”

If it came across as a little rehearsed Gladio didn’t mind. He leaned in, a smile curling the edges of his mouth and pecked Ignis on the lips.

“How long were you crushing on me?”

“Pardon?” Ignis sputtered.

“Going for things you thought were out of your reach? Please, if anything you’re the one who’s out of my league.”

“I’ll end this here and now if you don’t tone your ego down.”

“Come on Iggy, you’re a catch and you know it. You’re smart and talented and handsome to boot. Gina was right, people want to get to know you. But you’re right too, you’re not obliged and I think that when you want to share that makes it even more special.” Ignis blushed.

“I’m trying to be serious here, Gladio.”

“Yeah I know, I’m being serious too,” Gladio replied. Ignis’ face burned an even brighter red, like everything they’d gotten up to recently was no big deal, but Gladio admiring the man he was dating was the most embarrassing thing in the world.

_So cute,_ thought Gladio, leaning in to kiss Ignis’ hot temple.

“You enjoy it thought, right?” Gladio asked. “Being Shiva?” Ignis smiled.

“Very much so. I think you enjoy it, too,” he teased. Now it was Gladio’s turn to blush.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I don’t think I could ever be on stage like you, but yeah.”

“Mm, maybe one day,” said Ignis slyly, draining the last of his coffee.

“Maybe,” replied Gladio, standing “if you’re a good boy, you - and only you - will get a strip tease for your birthday.” Ignis gave a little fist pump of success before holding out his arm so Gladio could help him to the car. He had crutches, yes, but he wasn’t going to stop milking his injury for what it was worth at least until they got to the Citadel. Gladio drove him first to Gina’s, who met them on the doorstep in her housecoat with a reusable shopping bag of Ignis’ stuff. She blew a kiss to her nephew, trapped in the passenger’s seat, and hugged Gladiolus.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“There’s a fire in that nephew of mine. Thanks for helping me show him that good things happen when he lets himself burn bright.”

“He almost broke his ankle,” Gladio pointed out, “but … I promise to look after him better, okay?”

Gina released them with another smile and a wave.

“I have to mark tests,” she complained. “But I guess I can’t say anything because the two of you are ditching me to hang out with a prince.”

“So that’s one relative down,” said Gladio, shutting the door of his not a P.OS. car. “How do you think it’s gonna go with your uncle? Do you think he got the message?”

“He hasn’t texted, or called. You said he just … up and left the show?”

“Mhm,” Gladio confirmed. “I think he got the message that there’s really nothing he can do. You don’t think he’s going to try and, I dunno, sully your name or something like that?”

“My uncle is a stubborn ass but he’s not vindictive. And he won’t try and ‘sully my name’ less he risk damage to himself, or make the crown look bad. What did Gina say by the way? Did she say something about it?” Gladio shrugged, keeping his eyes on traffic to try and hide the fact that he was blushing.

“Just, thanks for looking after you, I guess.”

“You guess?” asked Ignis, incredulous but amused. 

“I guess,” Gladio replied. Ignis smirked and shook his head.

“How about this,” said Gladio. “You still owe me a proper date. I got all dressed up and everything.”

“But I like that you got all dressed up to watch me dance,” said Ignis. “That was a very nice shirt, actually, you should wear it more often. How about,” he suggested, “there is a new place open near the university. They have a decent dance floor, so I’ve been told. We can make the trip as soon as my ankle passes inspection, hm? You wear that shirt.” Gladio grinned.

“I’ll hold you to it. It’s a date, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gladio you clueless idiot.  
> 


End file.
